


Up in the Air

by AmberStargazer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, But there is def more Harry than Draco chapters, Canon Related, Coach Malfoy, Coach Potter, Draco is a sad gay baby, Drarry, F/F, F/M, Gay Harry, Heavy Angst, Lesbian Ginny Weasley, M/M, Major & Non-Major Character Smut, Original Quidditch Teams, POV Alternating, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts, Quidditch, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, Slow Burn, Sweetwater All-Stars, The Pride of Portree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-01-16 10:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 42,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12340554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberStargazer/pseuds/AmberStargazer
Summary: Years have passed since their painful break-up, but Harry and Draco are just fine...sort of.After finding out they have both accepted posts with professional Quidditch team, The Pride of Portree, Harry and Draco decide to keep it civil. But when work conditions cause them to partner up, and they're forced to become much closer than originally planned, it tests the emotions and relationships they've curated in the years they've spent apart and will cause them to rethink everything they have ever felt for each other in the past, in the present, and in the future.*It is very important to note that I am taking some very creative liberties when writing about the Quidditch details that include the way the league is conducted, international teams, and how the matches are played.*





	1. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for giving my story a read! Enjoy :)

Harry floated on the feeling of sheer happiness that came with a proper night of getting pissed. He had celebrated the culmination of his worst work week…ever. After an absolute mess of a raid, preceded by one of the most drawn out and intense investigations he had ever led, Harry had been met with an inquiry conducted by the department. He was cited by fellow Aurors for not following procedure; which may or may not have been true.

It was a right mess.

Ron had joined him after work, but Hermione had disagreed with the engagement telling Harry that, ‘Drinking away his problems was no way to start the process of accepting the consequences of his actions.’ Hermione had always been better at dealing with things of this nature, but Harry had said, 'Fuck it,' and gone for a drink.

Harry knew as he apparated home that he should have told Draco about the gathering, but had thought that it wouldn’t count for much because he had been doing a lot of going out these days…without Draco. 

But as Harry walked toward his flat, he felt guilt wash over him from his dishonesty and didn’t want to open the door. He hesitated. After considering his options, he realized it wouldn’t matter one bit whether he left and came back later because he knew tonight was not going to end well.

***

Draco sat in the room listening to Harry sluggishly move towards the door. The room was dark with only a corner lamp giving a glow. Upon first seeing the flat, it was something he completely expected from Harry. It was large but contained very little on the side of furniture. The fridge was almost never stocked, with Harry almost always opting for take away over actually cooking. It drove Draco mad. He supposes it doesn’t matter now.

Draco is leaving Harry, and it is destroying him.

He wanted to stay with him but knew that Harry was doing very little to grow from what he had done from the war. The nightmares had only gotten worse, Harry was reckless in his duties as an Auror, and recently, Draco had no idea where he was until he was finally home and passed out. It was breaking Draco’s heart and he couldn’t do it anymore.

Harry entered the room and immediately looked at Draco. Shame painted on his face. Draco huffed. 

“Do you even care what time it is?”

Harry has nothing worth saying to Draco that won’t piss him off any more than he already is. He tries to speak but it all amounts to choked sounds in his throat.

“Come on then, out with it.”

“I didn’t think it would matter-” Draco stands immediately.

“YOU NEVER THINK!” 

He is angrier than he has been in ages. Hell, he hasn’t been this angry in years. Completely different circumstances of course, but the anger towards Harry feels familiar…comfortable even. He feels both satisfied and disgusted with himself at this revelation.

“Don’t. Yell. Please. I am already feeling the sick coming.”

Harry attempts to steady himself on the wall but mildly prolongs the inevitable. The next thing he knows, Harry’s on the floor, frustrated and looking like an idiot.

“Harry, we need to talk about something.”

Harry’s eyes focus on Draco’s and he looks confused. He suddenly catches sight of two medium sized pieces of luggage sitting next to Draco on the floor. He immediately sits up as best he can while still sitting on the floor, but dares not to stand for fear of falling over completely and further damaging this already damaged situation.

“What are those for?” 

“I think it’s about time… I left.”

“Why-“

“You know why Harry,” Draco’s words are calm and quiet

Harry sits dumbfounded. An expression Draco had become accustomed to and even liked at some points, but in this moment, Draco can barely look at him. He sits back down on the armchair he was occupying and waits for Harry’s questions.

“Where are you going to go?”

“Pansy’s for now. After that, it won’t be your concern.”

“Draco-“

“Please, I beg you, don’t pretend that this is all perfect. That we’re just fine. You’ve never been good at lying Harry.” At this Draco begins to tear up, and then looks down to hide that they’re going to freely start flowing soon.

“I know it’s not perfect. I know it hasn’t been great but certainly, it hasn’t been bad. What exactly is wrong? We can fix it can’t we?”

Draco sighs with the past few months of pain sitting on his chest.

“Where do I begin, Harry? Recently, it’s you being out till all hours of the night while you get pissed with your friends. It’s your blatant refusal to acknowledge your nightmares, and before you try to deny it, I know they are all war-related. But most heart wrenching of all is the way you look at me sometimes…” Draco’s voice begins to quiver, “Half the time I don’t know if you love me or if you hate me. But how would I know if you love me? You’ve never even told me.”

Harry draws a deep breath, stands up, and begins to raise his voice.

“Don’t say that! That’s not-“

Draco stands as he begins to shout back, “Yes, it is, Harry, and I had hoped when you got home, sober, we could speak about this. But of course, drunk Harry, who seems to be the only one I got to see these past few weeks, beat you to it!”

Harry is staring at Draco with an intensity that is hard to place. He has tried over the years to try and read Harry when he is at his worst, but these faces flash then go; leaving shadows of feelings that get buried in the muck only Harry knows and will ever know. When he refuses to show his true thoughts, Draco assumes it's just one more way for Harry to shut him out and it makes his chest ache.

Draco attempts to steady his own voice, but it comes shaky out and peppered with small sobs.

“I wanted so much for us. I wanted to make it work with you because I thought that if we made each other happy, then perhaps whatever was behind us could just stay behind. We made it out. We survived, Harry. I wanted everything for us, but I can’t do this by myself.”

Draco moves to cradle Harry’s now crying face.

“I love you so much Harry, but I cannot handle what comes next. I know you’ve died once at someone else’s hand… but I don’t think I could see it happen by your own.”

***

There were days when Harry convinced himself that Draco didn’t want anything to do with him and that it was all a cruel joke cooked up by the Malfoy clan to humiliate him. But then he came to his senses and decided that perhaps he just deserved happiness; something he was intensely suspect of and thought would allude him for decades. 

Harry knew he was wrong for it, but he shoved everything he felt about Draco away because Harry had no fucking idea how to be anything other than broken and barely breathing. 

But the truth was, that he loved Draco so much that it scared the shit out of him. 

It made no sense that Draco had stuck it out with Harry this long, but Harry hoped that he must have seen at some point how much he truly cared for him; even if he never said it, he must have known…

As Harry thinks this, he can feel everything slip from him; Draco is leaving him and there isn’t a thing he can do about it. He looks at him with childlike sadness because seeing Draco like this, raw, unrefined, crying, and broken-hearted, is intolerable. So, if leaving Harry will fix Draco, then Draco needs to go.

He places his hands around Draco’s waist and draws himself in as Draco accepts the gesture and puts his arms around his shoulders. Harry lays his head on his chest and steadies himself before he attempts to make eye contact again. Before he tries to memorize every, last detail of his face. The face that at one point Harry loathed and hated, had become everything he loved in the world: a symbol of the future peace he desperately wanted but never felt was possible.

Harry had seen Draco deal with his selfishness and the self-destructive way he worked his Auror job. Never casting Protego spells during a raid, never following protocol any time he was on his own, hardly thinking past the next thirty minutes, and never once considering what kind of pain he had caused Draco in doing those things. Perhaps Draco had it all figured out and Harry was merely holding him back from a life he deserved. Maybe Draco had finally healed from the war.

Harry thought he had time to work on the cracks: they had developed in his childhood only to worsen as an adult, and it wasn’t fair to Draco to have to wait that long. Harry had prolonged Draco’s unhappiness by ignoring his own, and now faced the reaping of what he had sewn.

***

Draco feels Harry’s breathing finally even out as the moment, he’s been dreading the most, approaches without regret. Harry lifts his head off Draco’s chest, and while Draco’s breathing hitches, Harry kisses him in a way he has never experienced before.

Harry is kissing him goodbye. 

Nothing has felt this solid and real between them in months, and he enjoys every moment of it. But he needs it to end as quickly as possible because one second more than he can handle, and he will unpack and start the toxic cycle over again. He pulls away, slowly, trying to steady his mind.

“I sent an owl to Hermione and she will be over tomorrow. She is aware of what’s happening and doesn’t want you to be by yourself. Don’t try and argue because she’s coming anyway, and I’m sure she’s told Ron by now, so he’ll probably be with her.”

Harry looks like he’s about to argue, but Draco knows that underneath that façade is silent acceptance and even relief. 

He draws his wand and charms his bags to start moving towards the door. Harry watches Draco with pained silence, but there is nothing left to be done. He thought of countless ways to attempt and patch whatever they could, but every time he wanted to try something, they ended up having earth-shattering arguments over things he can’t remember now. His fixation on trying to repair Harry only magnified how much he wasn’t fixing himself. Draco rationalized the idea that if they stayed together, they were destined for a life of sadness and decay, only to become shells as the years drug on. Apart, they had a chance at real happiness and with that thought, he opens the door.

Draco moves along while the bags move with him. As he turns to face Harry again, the bags float into his hand with ease. He reaches for Harry’s neck, and as he embraces him, he closes his eyes and presses his lips to Harry’s forehead. 

While still hovering quite near, he whispers to Harry, “Please, Potter, whatever you do, try and be happy. Even if that isn’t with me, just try.” Draco pulls away, taking with him more than he realizes, and with a loud pop, he’s gone. Harry stands in his doorway alone and crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okaydokay! This is probably the saddest part of this story, so fear not my friend! Plus, I have conveniently posted the next chapter at the same time as this one so you don't have to be sad for long!
> 
> Because I am pretty honest by nature, I wanted to level with you fine people: this story is going to be loooooooong. I have a good chunk written and am nowhere near the end, so if you're into slow burns, some badass pay off, major Ginny time (because let me tell you, she's not going anywhere), and some intense angst and Harry/Draco tension, THEN STICK AROUND FOR THE FIRE* THAT IS THIS WRITING! 
> 
> *by fire i mean destructive and messy.


	2. Four Years On...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, thanks for coming back or continuing through!
> 
> I don't have a definitive schedule for postings but I'm going to try for at least once a week for right now. I wanted to post the two chapters together so you wouldn't be sad for long.
> 
> See ya soon!

“I quit my job today!”

Harry is sitting across from Hermione and next to Ron as he announces to his usual pub table that he has, in fact, put in his resignation with the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement today. Ginny, minus her typical Luna, is gaping at him, and Hermione is coughing uncontrollably while Ron pats her back. Neville has gone for a pint as if to avoid the whole thing; good man. Harry’s thankful for the pub’s darkness temporarily shielding him from the onslaught of questions he will soon field.

The Starry Centaur contains lots of witches and wizards laughing, drinking, and talking. Pubs weren’t his favorite place to be anymore, but the Centaur had become the home away from home Harry craved. The worn cushions on the benches they sat on felt like they belonged at the Burrow. The warm, flickering, never melting candles, danced along the framed pictures of famous witches and wizards who had had a pint or two or a fight here, and Henry, the barkeep, was an absolute mate by never, ever mentioning Harry’s celebrity. But more importantly, Harry had nothing but great memories here.

Like the time, Ginny and Ron got into a row over an event from their childhood in which he stole a favorite toy of Ginny’s, only to get it accidentally stuck to the ceiling of her room with a permanent sticking charm. The disagreement eventually turned into an arm wrestling match that Ron lost so severely that he has been unable to live it down to this day.

The Centaur had been where Ron and Hermione told him they were getting married, and it was here that Bill and Fleur announced that they were expecting the second time. It was here in this booth he had found out about Ginny and Luna and remembered feeling absolutely elated at the prospect of Ginny finding the happiness she deserved. The Centaur provided Harry with the normality he had craved his entire life.

“But- But HARRY!” Hermione looks hysterical,” You can’t possibly give up all the hard work you’ve put in! You’ve only just been promoted!”

“Yeah, six months ago, Hermione. After you make Lead Auror there’s not much wiggle room until you get Head Auror, and everyone knows that Ron deserves that way more than me.”

Hermione blushes and closes her mouth because she knows full well that Ron is the better Auror. It’s not as if Harry doesn’t know how bloody brilliant Ron is at his job. Ron does his paperwork on time, Ron follows procedure almost to perfection, and no one ever reprimands him for jinxing first and talking later.  Ron is a damn good Auror, and Harry would gladly quit the day they try to give him the job over Ron. To Harry, he is simply beating them to the punch

“Mate, that’s not-“

“No, it is. Listen, I wouldn’t just stroke your ego. But you and I know that the first chance they get, they’re going to push me into that position. And I’ll tell ya, it won't be because of my fieldwork.”

The table is silent. It’s the heaviest thing he’s said in ages, but they all know it’s true.

“You’re the better Auror, Ron, and if they don’t make you Head Auror one day, then it’ll be the worst thing they do. Besides, I am ten times the flyer you are. So, we all have our strengths.”

“Well, if wizarding chess were a sport-“

“No one cares about chess, Ron,” Ginny is chiming in now, “So, what happened? It had to have been something to tip you over the edge.” The truth is, Harry knows exactly when he wanted to leave the Auror Department. It was six months ago when he got promoted.

***

Head Auror O’Hannen had been conducting the Monday meeting, as usual. She wanted to touch base on everyone’s cases for the week, assign Junior Auror’s duties and speak about general announcements. Every meeting held in the Department was held in the same room.

The walls were painted in a terrible pea green color. Wooden chairs that looked like they had been there since the ministry was founded were squeezed into nearly every space available to them. There were bewitched windows on the walls to look like the streets of London to combat the tight feeling of conducting magical affairs underground. Ahead of the room was a massive chalkboard that stretched from ceiling to floor and wall to wall. Little bits of flying chalk wrote out the announcements as O’Hannen went over them with additional notes one had to take down. Naturally, Harry never took any, and Ron always did. Harry was getting up from his seat situated in the back of the room when he heard O’Hannen speak to him.  

She was a tall woman, just under Harry’s height, and had dark black hair that curled outwards without any discernable direction to where it was going; Harry could sympathize. She had a near-permanent crease in her forehead and wore the typical black Auror robes. But unlike Harry’s that held no ranking, her robes were emblazoned with silver lines indicating her title as Head Auror on the lapels. She looked as if she could take on every criminal in the world, and not even break a sweat. Harry liked her, but could never make out whether she cared for him.

“Potter, a word.”

She hated him. Harry knew it. He nodded at Ron with a look of caution. Ron made his usual “oh shite” face and left as quickly as he could to retreat to his desk. Harry headed towards his boss, ready for a sacking the likes of which never seen before.

“Your paperwork needs improvement, Potter.”

Harry stood there waiting for more.

“O-Okay. I’m sorry about that. I’ll-er- get that fixed right away,” Harry turned to leave but hesitated, “Did you need me for something else?” He wished he hadn’t asked.

“Yes. As a Lead Auror, it is your duty to conduct your work in a manner that shows the department’s efficiency and professionalism. Shit paperwork will not do. Be sure to fix it before your next review.”

Harry stood there speechless as the words “Lead Auror” hung in the air.

“Am I to understand that this is a promotion?”

“There are those Auror skills at work! Yes, Potter. It seems that you are doing just as expected by rising through the ranks. You’re a Lead Auror now with your own team of Aurors and Junior Aurors. The paperwork is underway as we speak, and you’ll be announced officially come next Monday.”

“But, madam, while I am not trying to argue, surely there are other Aurors more qualified to be-“

“It certainly does sound like arguing,” she cuts him off with a wave of her long fingers, “Listen, Potter, Weasley is going to be promoted very soon. ‘P’ comes before ‘W’ therefore, we’ll be moving him up the next round of candidates, don’t worry,” Alphabetical? Harry didn’t like the logic she offered him.

“But I just don’t feel that the department needs me in a position that will oversee-“

“Let me lay it out for you Potter: you have been promoted because I don’t have a finer field agent in the bunch. Are you reckless? Of course. Are there more well-rounded and qualified Aurors? Absolutely. But, none of them are as great as you are with field work, talking to witnesses, tactical maneuvers and training for Junior Aurors. If I wanted to promote ‘The Boy Who Lived’ simply because he was, then you would have my job, and I would be in Cardiff, retired, and taking in that sea air but alas. Now, if you don’t mind I still have my job for now. Off with ye Potter, there is crime to fight!”

As Harry leaves for his desk he expects a wash of emotion to overtake him, but nothing comes in the long hallway between the meeting room and the office he shares with Ron. When he tells Ron, he doesn’t shut up about it, but Harry feels…nothing. No deep sense of accomplishment. No excitement to tell his other friends or even Hermione. All Harry feels is that old familiar weight being placed on him… one day he was going to be head of the department. It didn’t matter if there were wizards or witches more qualified. Harry knew that it would be his responsibility to keep the magical population in Britain safe from the dangers of the magical world…again.

After that, Harry had slowly but surely, fallen into a state of quiet acceptance because he knew that he should be okay with being trusted like that. But the panic and sadness blooming in place of pride and steadfastness were his first indication of his need to leave the Aurors. He stayed because it was the right thing to do. He stayed because he knew that it is what people wanted. The Chosen One residing over their safety…but he couldn’t do it. Harry knew what it was like to fight an uphill battle from the start, and he couldn’t bring himself to take that on for the rest of his life.

So, the six months passed with Harry taking his responsibilities seriously but without passion. He most certainly fixed his paperwork to avoid the judging eye of his superiors, but Harry knew that his time was coming to an end at the Department.

Thus, the morning of his appointment with O’Hannen, he was more than prepared for anything she would say to him. He sat down and looked across to her desk filled with odd things which included the tiniest Sneak-o-Scope he had ever seen, and a muggle toy racing car, which he could have sworn he heard backfire just as she entered her office. She took a seat and closed the door with a wave of her wand.

“Potter, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I would like to quit. My post. Here. At the ministry, as an Auror, madam, please,” Harry blurted out as she gave him the most laughable look of incredulity.

“Alright then Potter, per your work agreement the standard time for a _letter_ of resignation is two weeks, and after that, you will forfeit all work titles, responsibilities, and will no longer be privy to the information of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Unless Weasley asks for your help on a case. Then at the time, of course you’re going to help him because honestly, who is going to stop him or you?”

Harry sat there with his mouth open.

“Was that all Potter?”

“I wasn’t expecting-“

“Listen, Harry, I’m going to say some things that may or may not show some emotion and feeling towards you so I would appreciate it if you keep this between us.”

Her eyes softened, she dropped her shoulders and sat back in her chair. The line in her forehead relaxed, leaving behind a mere shadow of the hard woman she has had to become.

“Ever since you got promoted, you’ve sort of been sulking around as if I just asked you to fight You-Know-Who all over again. And to be quite honest, you’re a great Auror, better than you think, and while I have enjoyed you working here, you and I both know that this isn’t for you. Maybe right after the war, when there seemed to be much more evil just wandering about, but now, no one wants you to shoulder any more than you already have.”

Her words weighed on him. He felt as if she knew all along this was going to happen. Harry caught sight of an ancient looking crystal ball sitting on her fake window sill and quieted his thoughts as if it could help dampen what she had already seen.

“I will expect that letter on my desk by mid-day. Please, start the task of sorting through your cases in the following weeks. The department thanks you for the service you have provided to our community, and I must say, I have never been more pleased and ached about seeing someone leave.”

Harry sat in silence as he looked at her.

“Thank you, Madam Auror O’Hannen.”

“You’re very welcome Auror Potter. Now, get out of my office.”

Harry moved to leave the office, charmed the door open, and stepped into the hallway with nothing but a small blaze of happiness beginning to burn through him. Perhaps he was meant to feel perfectly happy after all.

***

Harry recounts his tale to his friends, and they all sit gaping at him.

“But what if you’ve just undone your entire future,” says Ron.

“Ron!” Hermione exclaims.

“I mean, he’s only asking a real question,” Ginny says. She’s looking at Harry like she’s trying to figure out a sphynx’s riddle.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Neville has returned with a full round of pints and shots for everyone and starts handing them out because Neville is the best kind of friend.

“I dunno. I’ve been working for so long, that I didn’t know that I could do anything else with my life other than being an Auror, but I’m sure whatever it is, it won’t be nearly as dangerous.”

Hermione braids her fingers together, flattens her forearms to the table and looks directly into, what feels like, Harry’s soul.

“Whatever you decide Harry, we’re here for you.”

“Thanks, Hermione.”

Ginny stands, raises her shot, and looks at Harry, “To Harry Potter, the Boy Who Will Live On Your Couch Because He’s Unemployed!”

“TO HARRY!” They all raise their shots, hit them back, and make the face every person makes when they take a shot: utter disgust with a smile.

After a while, the conversation steers to other things, and Harry’s glad for it. The hours tick by, and before he knows it, they’re ushering each other out the door of the pub and everyone is heading home. Ron, Hermione, and Neville head to their apparition point leaving Ginny and Harry breathing in that London summer air.

The street is quiet and the air is electric right before a rain. Harry looks up only to realize that Ginny is standing very close to him.

“I cannot believe you quit, Harry! It’s incredible!”

She’s yelling a bit. A telltale sign that Ginny is a bit pissed.

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“No, but it is. It’s perfect really!”

“Why is that Ginevra?”

“Blech, don’t call me that. No, it’s perfect because now you can move to SCOTLAND WITH ME!!”

Harry is confused. He feels as if he is forgetting an important conversation with her, and now, in his mildly drunk haze, he feels like a git for forgetting.

“Wait, did I tell you that I was going to move to Scotland with you if I quit my job, and now that I have you’re invoking some pact we made? Because I have to say I have no idea what you mean.”

As Harry finishes his sentence Ginny passes out and falls into his arms. Harry tries to pick her up, but can’t get a hold on her. He hasn’t seen Ginny this drunk since she got recruited to the Holyhead Harpies. He finally gets a good grip on her and starts walking to their apparition point. It’s the worst block Harry has ever walked in his entire adult life.

Once they reach the bit of alleyway meant for their apparition Ginny wakes up suddenly, nearly causing Harry to drop her.

“No Harry! Can I stay over at your place?!”

“What? You couldn’t have told me this before I got here?”

“What about Grimmauld place? That’s just up the road?!”

Harry is struck. Grimmauld place…it’s been a dragon’s age since he’s been there last. Harry hadn’t lived in it since right after the war. He hadn’t quite grown accustomed to living in a magical house and had decided to buy his own flat until he was completely ready to take on the responsibilities of keeping up with the old girl; much to Kreacher’s dismay of course. Every once in a while, he would pop over to visit the old elf for a meal or two. Sometimes Kreacher would plead with Harry to stay the night, and sometimes he would say yes. All in all, it wasn’t that Harry didn’t care for Grimmauld Place, it’s just that Harry thought it deserved to go to someone who really needed it; not some young bachelor wizard with no idea how to maintain her.

Harry holds Ginny tight as he apparates the small distance to Grimmauld when she passes out again. He thinks it a bit odd that she doesn’t want to go home, but doesn’t have the mental capacity to question this decision right now. Probably not the wisest in his state to apparate because he ends up landing on top of his fridge in Grimmauld’s kitchen with Ginny in his arms. They promptly fall off the top and land on top of each other. Ginny is still passed out but groaning with pain. They can deal with the bruises in the morning.

Harry picks himself up just as he hears a crack and Kreacher is in front of him.

“Master Potter?! Kreacher is so pleased to see you! Do you require assistance?”

“Kreacher! Yes! Please, would you be so kind as to help me get Ginny up to one of the rooms?”

“Certainly Master Potter.”

“Kreacher, please. No Master Potter”

“Certainly.”

“Thank you.”

Kreacher snaps his fingers to lift Ginny off the ground and begins to guide her floating body towards the stairs. Kreacher is following her up the stairs as Harry waves his wand to the candles causing the whole bottom level of the house to lose its light. Harry feels odd being here, and tries to figure out why. Maybe it was because he wanted to make this home with someone at one point…He pushes the thought immediately out of his head, refuses to linger on the memories he wants so badly to access, and moves up the stairs, deflated.

He walks into the room as Kreacher moves Ginny onto the bed. As he leaves, Kreacher lights her a small fire that gives off no heat but a simple glow breathing life into the room, leaving Harry looking at her. Her hair is spread across the pillow and without any control, due to his drunken state, he falls into memories he hadn't thought of in a very long time.

It had been over a decade since Harry had broken up with Ginny, but that didn’t make Harry feel any less guilty about it. It was a few months after the war ended, and Harry had been longing for something that Ginny couldn’t give him. He knew he loved her, but that love was forged during a time of desperate measures and seemingly last chances. Nothing felt the same after the Battle. He finished it with her as he was leaving for the Ministry to start as a Junior Auror and she was beginning her final year at Hogwarts. There had been no tears, no anger, just a feeling of acceptance and respect because they both knew that it was not meant to be.

Upon the news, Ron, quite furious with Harry, didn’t speak to him for a few days. Breaking the heart of your best mate's younger and only sister did put a damper on one's friendship.

He grabs a worn quilt from the end of the bed, throws it over her, and leaves the room. His own room waits down the hall from Ginny’s and beckons Harry like a long-lost lover. He steps into it and notices the dark green curtains are drawn, blocking out the clouded night, passing outside his windows. The carpets are a rich maroon that seemed to match the ones at Gryffindor tower, and his bed, a grown-up version of the traditional four-poster, took up most of the room.

He moves towards the dresser to deposit his watch and take off his shoes. He pulls his wand from his robes and places it under his pillow. He finishes undressing by depositing his robes, shirt, and pants on the floor next to the bed, and climbs into the sleep-inducing, beauty in just his underwear.  He lays there for a moment absorbing the silence of the house while letting his sleep overtake him.

He dreams of the clouds, the night sky, and the feel of the wind rushing around him. The air creates a pocket of safety as it welcomes him. While floating in the clouds he realizes he isn’t alone: a glowing figure flies around him, playfully casting sparks at him as it whirls around him. Harry tries to catch the figure, but it begins to fly away from him. He gets frustrated and begins to sink from the clouds back to the ground until he feels the softest grass underneath him. He is still looking up, desperately searching for some evidence of that glowing figure…he cannot see it but it doesn’t keep him from wanting to seek it.


	3. The Pride of Portree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't wait until Wednesday! Thanks for coming back or giving this a read!

Harry wakes the next morning to the smells and sounds of Kreacher cooking breakfast. The loyal house-elf usually waits until Harry is up, but suspects Ginny is awake, prompting Kreacher to make her something. Harry could eat, but watching any Weasley attack a meal was a sight to behold and Ginny was no exception.

He sits up and tries to remember his dream from the night before. He remembers the clouds and trying to catch something but nothing is sticking. He gives up on the dream and dresses in nothing but pajama bottoms.

As he moves downstairs he feels last night’s happenings finally come to the surface. Because Harry hasn’t drunk like that in a very, very long time, he has forgotten that all too crap feeling of waking up. While this is not his worst morning after, the sick feeling sloshes in his stomach as he descends the stairs.

Ginny is sitting at the kitchen island drinking coffee slowly, wincing at every sound Kreacher makes while preparing breakfast. She puts the cup to her lips, takes a small sip, and then puts the cup, ever so gently, down ensuring it’s quiet landing.

“GOOD MORNING GINEVRA,” Harry shouts causing her to jump at his greeting. Simultaneously causing her to slip down her chair, hit her shin on the cabinets below, and spill her hot coffee all over her clothes.

“Right fucking git you know that?!” she spits at Harry as Kreacher is spelling the stains off her.

“If I’m a git then you are just plain daft for drinking as much as you did last night,” he says.

Harry moves around the island reaching for the potion Kreacher has waiting for him. Kreacher, no stranger to the habits Harry kept in the past, is familiar with these kinds of impromptu visits to Grimmauld Place after a night of drinking and has a Morning-After Draught ready and willing to ease the tension. Harry downs the small vial, pours himself a cup of coffee and sits next to Ginny as his nausea and headache begin to ebb away.

“Aren’t you going to offer whatever potion that was to your houseguest?”

“Don’t you mean, the woman who is seeking refuge at her mate’s house, and is lucky that he has so many spare bedrooms,” he asks her with a smug edge to his voice.

Ginny is caught. Harry has known her longer than he realizes sometimes and knows when she is hiding something. She shifts her weight in her seat and looks anywhere that isn’t Harry’s face.

“Gin, what’s going on?”

Ginny settles down, and puts her hands on the island counter, playing with her fingernails for a minute before she looks at Harry.

“Luna broke up with me.”

Harry tries to hide his shock. He remembers sending them both the owl and felt it odd that Luna, in all the time they’ve been friends, has never missed a pub night. It all made sense now.

Ginny’s somewhat biting attitude dissipates as she tells Harry this news. She’s miserable and now Harry knows why.

“What happened?”

Ginny sighs deeply, adjusts her posture, and looks at Harry.

“We’ve been going through this rough patch since about Christmas. We’ve been at each other for the most ridiculous things: the temperature of the flat, the way she knits and crochets everything, the long hours we both work. It seemed to be okay for a while, well bearable at least until I got some news. I’ve been picked up, and with the possibility of being promoted to team captain, by the Pride of Portree.”

“You’ve made the Pride of Portree? That’s brilliant!”

Harry thinks back when she told him she was leaving the Harpies. Over drinks at the Centaur, that while the Harpies were like family, she couldn’t see herself staying there and progressing through up to team captain. There were several logistical factors that had driven her to leave, but knew for some reason, that the Harpies were not where she was meant to be. She ended her contract and sent letters out to every professional Quidditch team in Europe. It was a decision that Harry assumed Luna was okay with but didn’t realize how not okay it was until this moment.  

It dawns on Harry as he congratulates her; Portree is in Scotland.

“Luna and I are at a point where the love we feel for our work is outweighing our relationship. I love playing Harry, I really do, and she loves writing and researching for the Quibbler, and I don’t want to tear her away and she doesn’t want to tear me away so she decided it would be better this way. I moved out the same weekend and have been living at the Burrow for the past three months.”

Harry thinks back over the past few months of seeing Ginny and Luna, and it hits him that they haven’t been holding hands, they haven’t been saying a whole lot to each other, but every time work comes up, they absolutely light up and begin discussing it with extreme passion. Harry feels like a shite friend for not noticing sooner.

“Hang on, why do you say she?” Ginny buries her face in her hands before she moves them into her hair with exasperation.

“Because I’m a coward who fears change, and would much rather stick around and try and beat the dead Hippogriff than attempt anything to change a fucked situation. So, she sat me down and told me that it was going to be okay, that growing apart is natural, and that maybe we’ll find each other in the future, but for now what’s best for us is moving on with our work and doing what makes us happy.”

Harry feels a weight pull at a tiny hole in his chest. They were in a relationship that wasn’t working so they did what they had to do by changing their status to help them do what they wanted to do. It didn’t mean it had to be bad, it didn’t mean that they could never talk again, it just means that they were aware enough of their own feelings to make a change for the better. Harry didn’t know that a relationship like that could exist, and suddenly he feels very sad.

“In a way, I’m glad this happened. When Luna is happy, she’s happy, when Luna is sad, she is happy, and when she’s angry, she’s shrill but it is very short lived. When you’re with someone who is in a perpetually good mood, it tends to put you at a disadvantage.”

“What do you mean?”

“Luna would never admit that she was unhappy with something. She would either just take what you gave her or she would convince herself that she liked it regardless of how she felt. She did it with food, clothing, books, and…me. She became unhappy but was beginning to adapt herself into something she thought I would want. That’s when I realized that the relationship was not where it was supposed to be. That Luna was too good of a person for me to just let her meld into something she wasn’t. It wasn’t fair to her or to me.”

“But you just said she did the breaking up?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t do it, Harry. I realized that it needed to end, but I also just couldn’t do it.”

“So, naturally you waited for her to break up with you?”

“Well, of course. I’m not mature enough to deal with that.”

As Harry chuckles, Kreacher snaps his fingers and the plates of breakfast are laid out: eggs, toast, porridge, bacon, and sausages are steaming in front of them. Kreacher snaps his fingers a second time and a small vile appears in front of Ginny. She grabs it, uncorks it immediately, and downs the thing like a shot from last night.

They both start to load their plates up as Kreacher slips from the kitchen with a small plate of food. Harry has pleaded with the elf on several occasions to eat with them, but Kreacher has never been able to cross this boundary. Instead, he takes a small plate for himself to eat in solitude in his cupboard.

Harry and Ginny eat in silence to enjoy the food Kreacher has done so well on. As they finish, Ginny looks at Harry expectantly.

“So, are you going to ask me about you moving to Scotland with me?”

“Why do you want me to move to Scotland with you?”

“Harry, I have never been good at asking for stuff like this. Things that are of a sensitive nature. I mean, look at who I grew up with, and not to mention the situation with Luna? I am not good at emotions. But as part of my agreement with Portree, I am required to live in the village for at least the first year if I am to make captain. Before I could just book a portkey or apparate to my team cities, but with my role possibly becoming more serious, they want me living there.”

The dishes begin to magically clean themselves up. The food disappears into the fridge as their cups refill with coffee. Harry watches this dance and still marvels at magic sometimes. He misses living in a magical house.

“Harry, a larger part of that break up was that Luna was tired of living in London. She moved back to Ottery St. Catchpole because she just couldn’t stand living away from her father. When I mentioned that we were going to have to move to Scotland, she sat me down and promptly suggested we break up. The timing was quite perfect, but I just didn’t realize how unhappy she was with London until I mentioned having to move to a different place.”

 “So, am I your Luna replacement? Because I don’t think I could pull off radish earrings the way she did…”

“You’re an arse! Seriously, Harry! I don’t want to move by myself because, well, because I don’t do well on my own. I can’t focus, I don’t make decisions as well, and I get lost in my own head… I guess once you live in a house full of people, all the time, living on your own kind of just never…feels….right.”

Ginny is a bit sullen now. Harry didn’t realize how dependent Ginny could be. When they were together she was fierce, independent, and was never indecisive. Now as an adult, Ginny seemed to have fallen out of those habits because she didn’t have to be as hard as she used to be because there was no war looming over their heads. Not to mention, she had Luna. Harry sympathizes with Ginny. He knew how hard it was to have to finally depend on yourself when you had been depending on someone else for so long.

“What do ya say, Harry? Do you want to move with me?”

He sits there with the decision jumping back and forth within him. For some reason, Harry feels quickly at ease with the decision to go. It’s as if he’s been waiting for this news for months without realizing it. He doesn’t question the gut feeling too much so as not to scare himself into saying no to Ginny.

“When do we leave?”

She crushed him in a hug. Harry hadn’t seen her this bright in a while, and he had to admit, he liked seeing her happy even if it meant that it came from a sullen situation. She began to tell him the details of the upcoming season when they would leave London for good, and how happy she was that he was going with her.

After a few hours of working out all of the specifics, she apparated to the Burrow to face the small wrath of Molly after not coming home last night. Harry looked around Grimmauld Place to breathe her in because, for all the love he had for the place, he could never take being there for more than a night. He heads upstairs to change, grabs his wand, and apparates out before Kreacher can accost him to convince him to stay another night.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey party people! I hope you like where this is going. Don't think I've said this before, but comments are always welcomed :) This is my first foray into a long-form fanfiction so be gentle, please.
> 
> Thanks for all the reads so far!


	4. The Stars at Night are Big and Bright

Draco is sweating his arse off, and cannot decide if he loves or hates Texas. The house he’s been sharing with his boyfriend, Jesse Zamaripa, sits in the middle of flatland Texas with enormous windmill looking things Draco is still trying to comprehend. The muggles can be so damn creative sometimes. The size of the house is something he has not been around for quite some time and feels reminiscent of his boyhood days growing up in the manor. Although the manor was nearly four times the size of this house. He moves from that memory as quickly as he thinks of it.

Draco looks around the room, reflecting on the past year and his time with Jesse. The red and blue of Jesse’s Quidditch team, the Sweetwater All-Stars, are woven into a tapestry that displays the team members and their numbers. The tapestry has been charmed to change at the start of every season and can recall the roster of every season Jesse has played in at the tap of his wand.

The room also contains an abundance of pictures. Some contain Jesse’s extensive family, at their home in the Hill Country of Texas. A few are of Jesse’s family still residing in Mexico. There are the ones with him and his teammates from the National Championship a few years ago, and then there are a couple of him and Draco on his nightstand. Draco likes that he’s on the nightstand, a very coveted spot for pictures.

More and more Draco feels these complicated emotions of being rather happy to go back to his home country while being a bit nervous at the thought of leaving Jesse. When he left his position with the Falmouth Falcons, he figured it would be a while before he would come back to work, but when Pansy passed the word along that the Equipment Manager for the Pride of Portree got sacked for trying to charm the quaffles to fly to their own team’s hands, Draco jumped at the opportunity to get back to the Isles. The determination and need to get back into quidditch had left an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Draco’s black trunk with silver hardware sits at the foot of the bed in anticipation of his journey back to the U.K. He had finished packing the previous night much to the dismay of Jesse. Getting ready to leave for Scotland reminded him of when he met Jesse during his second season with the Falcons.

Once the break up with Harry happened, and Draco was living with Pansy, he required a change of scenery. Tapping the contacts still friendly to him, he landed a job with the Falmouth Falcons as an assistant flying coach. Draco had toured all over the U.K. and Ireland, Europe, Parts of Asia, and the Americas while he worked with them. In the years that followed that break up, Draco had found something he truly loved being around; the intense and competitive world of professional Quidditch.

He met Jesse in Spain while the Falcons were touring, and partaking in some goodwill international matches in the form of a tournament. Draco had been running his seeker and reserve seeker through a few drills on the pitch of Spain’s national team, when he caught Jesse watching him from the stands just a few meters away.

Draco was sitting atop his firebolt while he was speaking to his players.

“Alright James, let’s do one more practice round with the speed snitch, and then we’ll take a break before we head into afternoon drills. Abbott, let’s do some spiraling laps around the pitch and them some diving practice. All right off with ye!”

Draco released the practice snitch as he watched James take off with it, while Abbot started his descent to begin flying up to the top of the pitch.

“You’re rather good with them.”

Draco looked at him, and wished some days he hadn’t because he was so damned beautiful it hurt. He was taller than Draco, his accent American and reminiscent of those awful _westerns_ Pansy liked so much and had rich dark brown hair which only complemented his flawless, brown, skin. He was lean but looked hard and muscular in places where it counted; as if he were suited to be a beater, chaser or seeker. Upon seeing the dark hair, brown skin, and deep eyes, Draco realized he had a type and groaned quietly at the thought. The man was gorgeous and Draco was lost before he could say anything.

“Yeah, well, yeah they’re really good players.”

“Sometimes it’s the coaching that counts just much as the playing.”

Draco blushed as he was attempting to watch his charges because if he looked at this man again he was going to fall off his damn broom.

“I’m Jesse by the way. Jesse Zamaripa.”

Draco turned to look at him when he heard his name. Jesse was a Chaser for the Sweetwater All-Stars from America. They had played the previous night, and had beaten a team from Poland. Half of that win was solely due to Jesse and his phenomenal playing. Draco had noticed how flawless and smooth he flew. He was a damned dream on that broom. It seemed that he was also just a damned dream in general.

“I’m Draco. Draco Malfoy.”

“It’s a pleasure Draco. Would you mind if I asked you something?”

Draco prayed that it wasn’t about the war. Anytime someone asked him his name, didn’t matter if it was a magical person from Germany, Russia or Japan, he said his name with trepidation. He hated living with that fear but deemed it a small price to pay compared to a life sentence in prison like his father had suffered. Draco shook off that thought and looked back at Jesse.

“I suppose not.” He wavered on his broom just a moment anticipating the next question.

“Don’t you think it would do us good, you know this being a tournament for the sake of international magical relations, to partake in a goodwill drink after you are done with practice?”

Draco started to sink on his broom. Nowhere in his overactive mind had Jesse ever uttered a phrase so delicious, yet there Draco sank while gaping at him.

“Sorry,” Draco asked with disbelief in his voice.

“I’m asking you out for a drink.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t really know you so, I’m flattered, but no thank you.”

What the fuck did he just say?

The smart thing he told himself. The smart thing was to say no. It had been more than a year since Harry, and while the pain wasn’t fresh anymore, he still didn’t know if he was ready for a commitment. But as per usual, he was over analyzing. This guy, Jesse, could just be looking for a quick shag.

Draco was wrong.

“I guess I’ll just have to get to you know you some other way. See you around.” Jesse turned and walked into the stands. Draco watched as he left out of view, and wondered what he meant by that. He turned his attention back to James and Abbott, still trying to figure out if no was the right thing to say.

The following day Draco woke up to Jesse’s bird, which he would later find out was a White-Tailed Kite named Lupita, whom he brought him every everywhere, pestering him with a letter from Jesse.

Draco took the letter from the bird and opened it to a note. As if they were sitting in potions passing back and forth:

Draco,

I would very much like to know more about you so I can properly ask you out soon. So, I’ll start off simple: I’m Jesse, as you know, and I play for the Sweetwater All-Stars based in Texas. My family is originally from Mexico, but I was born in the Hill Country of Texas. I fell in love with Quidditch while attending Illvermorny. Coming from a family of Quodpot players they were disappointed but supportive.

Where are you from? What is your family like? I look forward to hearing from you soon.

-JZ

Draco was utterly surprised at the gesture but was apprehensive at the question regarding his family. What would he tell him? Would he run off? Why would Draco care if he ran off if he’s only just met him? The bird delightfully chirped at Draco, obviously eager to get a response. Draco moved to the desk of his room and grabbed a small piece of parchment and quill to write a response.

Jesse,

Thank you for your letter. Well, I’m from England but not from Falmouth. I have been working with the Falcons for nearly a year, and my family contains my mother, father and me but we are somewhat, disconnected at the moment. 

What exactly is “the Hill Country of Texas” and why don’t you use an owl for correspondence?

Eager to hear back.

-D. Malfoy

The letters continued back and forth for the remainder of the tournament. With every one, Draco grasped onto the information like a collector seeking out precious artifacts. Jesse and Draco never actually spoke face to face during this note passing phase.

Near the close of the tournament, the Falcons had suffered a loss at the hands of the premier Canadian team, the Nova Scotia Kelpies, but as it was all in good fun everyone was just grateful for the lively match and international diplomacy amongst the teams.

It was the last night they were in Spain. Draco was packing his trunk when a knock startled him. He opened the door to see Jesse standing there with a box in his hands. He was wearing a green, traveling cloak that hugged his shoulders, showing off their broadness. It appeared that they would be leaving very shortly.

“Hello, Draco.”

Draco stilled at the sound of Jesse’s voice wrapping around his name. It had been days since their initial meeting, and somehow Jesse had become even more attractive. Recalling some of the details of Jesse’s life, it made sense how his body had become so firm and built. Jesse’s family dealt in livestock in Texas. A muggle trade traditionally, the non-magical animals were a much better way of making a living in the area he had grown up in. Not to mention, that the magic they used on them only helped business, and with it being such a physically demanding type of work, Jesse was almost destined to be as fit as he was.  

“Can I come in?”

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry, where are my manners? Please.” He ushered Jesse in and closed the door to what he thought was laughing and hollering down the hallway.  

“It’s nice to see you. In person that is.” Draco didn’t really know Jesse in an intimate sense, but he seemed nervous and unsure. A foil to the confident and arrogant way he conducted himself in their first meeting.

“So, what have you got there?” Jesse set the box on the bed. It was a simple wooden box that was inlaid with a filigree pattern around the edge of the top. He pulled off the lid, and out flew, small paper snitches that began swooping around each other. Draco could see his handwriting scrawled across their little winged, ball bodies as they flew around each other. They were the letters he had been sending him. Jesse just looked at Draco with anticipation.

“I…didn’t know what I wanted to say to you when I saw you in person other than I have really enjoyed writing you back and forth, but we leave tonight, literally in fifteen minutes, and I just wanted to ask you if you would be interested in coming to see me play or visiting the states anytime soon?”

“Why the snitches?”

Jesse seemed caught off guard by the question.

“Well, I…I asked what you did in school, seeing as how you were pretty tight-lipped on that subject, and one of the Falconers mentioned you were a seeker. I guess that makes sense since you spent the most time with them in practice so I thought-“

Draco kissed Jesse before the words left his mouth. Jesse grabbed him back with a force Draco had never felt before and melted into his grasp. The kiss was a flame and Draco felt it awaken something deep within him. He didn’t know he could feel that anymore with anyone, and while he was completely overtaken by the sensation, he feared what it meant for him and his need to avoid a serious commitment.

Jesse pushed Draco down onto the bed, still kissing him with ferocity. He had turned Draco’s offensive move into his own defensive position, and Draco had readily accepted it. A mess of arms and hands, they grasped at each other’s hair as if the past week of back and forth messaging was being thrown into this one moment. Draco began to reach for Jesse’s pants when he stopped himself. Jesse broke free from Draco’s swollen lips and breathed into his neck doing nothing to lull the ache he felt in his groin.

“I-I play the Seattle Sasquatches in two weeks. When are you free?”

And from then on it was a lot of portkeys, letters, floo travel, and fire talks to get them through the years. But every summer was electric, filled with holidays in far-off places, magnificent shagging, and ultimately a love that Draco never thought would be possible for him again.

He eventually told Jesse everything about his past, what happened with Harry, and how he had found his place in Quidditch. Jesse took the information and accepted Draco as who he had become, not what he had been; it was then that Draco fell into a deeper state of love he didn’t think himself capable of.

As his third season wrapped up and was nearing two years with Jesse, Draco found himself in an odd predicament: he had no idea if this was where he was supposed to be in life. It was after a particularly delicious meal with Jesse while they were vacationing in Greece that he began to think out loud. They sat on their private balcony, overlooking a magnificent sunset that painted the sky in pinks, golds, and lavenders. Jesse sat across from Draco looking relaxed and effortlessly beautiful. He has just told him he didn’t know what he wanted to do anymore.

“What do you want to do?” Jesse asked him this as if the answer was as simple as yes or no.

“No idea. Have you ever felt like this?”

“No. I wish I had so I could relate and tell you how I dealt with it, but I knew from a very young age that I was going professional in Quiddtich.”

“Must be nice.” Draco took a sip of wine and looked away, his eyes going steady and still on the objects in front of him.

“Why don’t you quit?”

“What are you on about?” Draco put his glass down on the small table and looked at Jesse with curiosity.

“Why don’t you quit your job, come live with me for a while and then figure out what your next move is?”

“Live? With you? In…Texas?” Draco began to laugh.

“Why is it funny? We’ve never properly lived together. Hell, we’ve never even properly been together on a day to day basis, minus a couple of months in between the seasons, but that doesn’t count because we’re in a near permanent state of vacation the entire time. What do you say? I’ll help you write the letter.”

“No. No, Jesse. I have responsibilities, a team that loves me and I really enjoy the work. I just, I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s where I’m supposed to be right now. It used to feel one hundred percent right. Being with the team, helping them to succeed and grow into a well-tuned power that wins matches and inspires each other. But now I feel like I’m losing a grip on something that I didn’t realize was so damn slippery.”

Draco sat there wondering exactly what it was he wanted. He knew he wanted Jesse. He knew that on the horizon was something life altering with Jesse and that if Jesse was there, it couldn’t be all bad. Two days later, he had resigned from Falmouth and a month later, he was moved into Jesse’s house in Texas.

Draco was lying in the bed he shared with Jesse. He was waiting for him to pop in and tell him that dinner was ready. He looked at his trunk with some inward feeling of sadness for the distance he was about to put between himself and Jesse. Jesse was sad of course but knew that Draco needed to find his way again. When he quit the Falcons, it had been because he felt that it was no longer where he needed to be. He knew he loved Quidditch but just couldn’t figure out where that love would flourish best.

“Mi amor! Dinner’s ready!”

Draco headed down the hallway with a bit of sadness nestling into his chest but knew taking the job in Scotland was for the best. He turned the corner and looked at the kitchen while Jesse finished up the meal. He had made a type of enchilada dish that had a green sauce over it. Draco could smell the fresh chilies that were sealing themselves in a small bowl, away from the stove. The kitchen had a low familiar heat that came with cooking, and he instantly began thinking of all the meals he was going to miss.

He took a seat at the little kitchen bar, while Jesse charmed a bottle to start pouring Draco a glass of wine. Jesse pulled a beer from the fridge and twisted off the cap as he spelled the rest of the food onto the table. A bowl of rice and beans hovered in front of Draco for him to take while a lime wedge squeezed itself on the top of the enchiladas. A small wedge of white, crumbling cheese started to wiggle above the enchilada, creating a nice layer on the top. The food was steaming.

“All done sulking in the room?”

Draco just stared at him with irritation but it didn’t do anything to steer Jesse from his playfulness.

“I wasn’t sulking. I was just-“

“Brooding moodily until you have to take your portkey to Scotland?”

Draco couldn’t help but laugh. Jesse was upfront, honest and never played games with how he felt. He never held back from Draco, and in turn, Draco tried to be as honest with him.

“Have I made the right decision?”

“I don’t think I’m the one to judge that. You do what you can with the information and experience you have, and if you fuck up then you fuck up. If it doesn’t work out in Portree, come join me on tour with my team, and we’ll continue figuring something out. I love you and if you’re happy, then I’m happy. Are you happy with the decision?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s going to be fine.”

Jesse grabs Draco’s hand and squeezes it. Draco feels himself settling in his grasp and is grateful for him. As much as Draco was overanalytical, Jesse was logical and decisive. One more thing for Draco to miss in his absence.

They finish their meal, and while Jesse cleans up, Draco decides to grab his trunk in preparation for his portkey. As he heads down the hallway, Draco thinks of all the things he’ll miss about the house. The glow it gets from that gorgeous Texas sky at sunset, the smell of Jesse after his morning shower, and of course the insanely good food he won’t be privy too once he’s back across the pond. But as soon as Draco thinks of all the details, he feels a pang of homesickness he is desperate to be rid of. With the last thought of Texas tucked away in his mind, Draco grabs his trunk.

They walk hand in hand to the portkey site. Draco eyes the rusty can and looks to Jesse for support.

“I’ll be there in a couple of days to settle you in. Don’t worry so much.”

With a deep kiss and embrace to say farewell, for now, Draco grabs the top of the trunk and picks up the portkey. He feels a tug from behind his bellybutton, and is gone before the sensation of Jesse’s lips has left his own.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sincerest apologies friends! As always, life got the better of me and I was unable to post last week! Hope you enjoy this chapter. It's kind of fun spiraling into the nothingness of OC's and canon.


	5. Cobble

Following a rather uncomfortable portkey journey, which Harry always hated traveling by, he is standing on a hill overlooking a small village. His trunk, along with Ginny’s, is laying on the ground at his feet. A small, round witch is standing a few meters away next to a cottage that Harry can only guess is the one that they will be staying at for the next few months.

The house is white with a brown roof. It is bright against the never-ending expanse of green, and the mountains that interrupt the distance in nearly every direction. It seems once you get out of London, everywhere is a view and he loves it. Across the water, he can see a gathering of colorful buildings hugging the curve of a small bay while it’s coast guides the land towards the sea. The formations of rock echo an ancient time of magic, and Harry can’t tell if it’s his new positive outlook on life, via his resignation from the Aurors and leaving London for an unknown amount of time, or the fact that he’s never seen this part Scotland before, but he feels an instant connection with the area.

Ginny is chatting with the witch while she eyeballs Harry. He’s used to the staring, looking, and on the less conspicuous side, outright gawking, when it comes to meeting new people and this witch is proving no different. She hands Ginny a few pieces of parchment and an envelope as she begins to speak somewhat animatedly at Ginny. Ginny is nodding her head, and when the witch stops Ginny responds, and the witch looks quietly appalled. The conversation is brief and before Harry knows it the witch leaves with a slight crack, but not without throwing Harry an odd disapproving look.

“Who spat in her tea?”

“Doesn’t seem she approves of you and I living together. She even went as far to ask if we were secretly married. I told her that it was none of her business and that if she weren’t careful I would unleash your fury upon her.”

Ginny picks up her trunk as Harry sighs with exasperation.

Ginny smirks while she lugs her trunk towards the house. Harry follows close behind her and wishes that sometimes he could just be Harry Potter: ordinary, unemployed wizard, and not Harry Potter: permanent fixture of wizarding gossip.

Ginny makes it to the door and enters the house.

“How does it know you’re allowed in?”

“The house has been charmed to recognize our wands to let us in.”

“What if somebody steals our wands?”

“Ever the Auror? It works in different circumstances, but I assure you, no one in Portree is going to mess with a Weasley AND Harry Potter unless they want to meet a very nasty end.”

Ginny drops her trunk and looks around while Harry closes the door. The cottage is expansive on the inside and causes Harry one of his ‘I love magic’ moments. It smells like a grandmother should live here with the scent of mothballs and dust floating in the air. There are rugs everywhere, not matching of course, and look older than Harry and Ginny combined. Harry notices that the furnishings are quaint and few, nothing liked the overstuffed nature of the Burrow and Grimmauld place, something Harry assumed came with older wizarding houses. As he moves down a hallway he looks at portraits while they snooze on the walls; it seems as if they are the last ten team captains that have flown for Portree.

“Is this where the team captains have all lived,” Harry asks Ginny.

“I believe so. The team provides a cottage to the captain and their family while they play for Portree.”

“But you’re not-“

Ginny turns to Harry and has a nervous smile.

“Merlin’s socks! When were you going to tell me?!” Harry scoops Ginny up in a hug and squeezes the breath out of her. He puts her down before she continues.

“It wasn’t official until I got an owl last night. The other player under consideration fell out of the running because of some incident. So, as of yesterday, I am the new team captain for the Pride of Portree.”

“Well, they are extremely lucky to have you. You’re going to do brilliant things!”

“I hope so. I’ll be the youngest captain they’ve had in three decades, and the first unmarried, female captain they’ve ever had.”

Ginny shrugs and has a nervous smile on again. Harry leaves the last bit of information hanging in the air because he doesn’t know what to say to it.

“Well, all that aside, it is a massive accomplishment and congratulations!”

“Thanks, Harry. I’m glad you’re here. Helping me with all this.”

Harry gives her a comforting gaze before Ginny moves deeper into the house and up a set of stairs. He goes and looks for the Kitchen.

He finds it a flutter as dishes are being dried and put away, a small towel is wiping the counter clean, and the windows are being washed from the outside by a tattered mop. Harry wonders who is doing all of this, for they had only just walked into the cottage. As quickly as the thought finishes, he hears a crack and jumps back a few steps. Before him stands a small, young looking, house elf.

“Cobble did not mean to frighten Harry Potter! Cobble is sorry and will punish herself if Harry Potter wishes it.”

The house elf, which Harry guesses is female, is wearing what looks like a small dress fashioned from ladies’ handkerchiefs with little flowers and vines embroidered onto them.

“No, no, that won’t be necessary. Please, Cobble, was it? It was an accident. How do you know my name?”

“Harry Potter is famous of course. But please, let me introduce myself. I am Cobble, house-elf to the Captain’s Cottage. “

The elf curtsies deeply, with her knee almost reaching the ground. She stands up and looks at Harry with eyes that burn with thousands of questions, but before the elf can say anything else, Ginny rounds the corner.

“Wow! A house elf! She didn’t mention there was a house elf here! Probably would have mentioned if I hadn’t told her off…”

“Miss Ginevra Weasley! Misses to Mr.Harry Potter, yes? I am Cobble, house elf to the Captain’s Cottage. Welcome!”

Ginny begins to laugh hysterically as Harry stands there awkwardly.

“Cobble is confused. What did Cobble say that is so funny?”

As Ginny rolls on the floor, Harry looks at the elf, smiling while trying not to chuckle himself.

“Sorry, Cobble, me and Ginny are actually not married. We’re just friends.”

“Oh! Apologies Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley! Cobble did not realize!”

While Ginny gets herself together, Harry sits at a small table in the corner of the kitchen.

“So, Cobble, how long have you been here at the Captain’s Cottage?”

“Cobble is proud to say that she is from a long line of house-elves who have served quidditch masters in the past. My mother was the house-elf of the cottage before me, and my grandmother before her.”

“You’ve been here your whole life then?”

“Oh, yes, Harry Potter! My family comes from a line of elves who has served every single Pride of Portree Team Captain since the team’s inception!”

“How was the last master of this cottage?”

At this question, Cobble tenses.

“I do not wish to speak of my last master. It is unbecoming of an elf.”

Harry suspects that perhaps Cobble, while happy in her life as a house elf, is rather glad to be rid of her former master.

“Captain’s Cottage was watched over by my mother for several years. When she passed two springs ago, I was her successor and have been running the house since.”

Cobble beams with pride at this last statement and puffs her little chest out. She cannot be taller than a Labrador.

“The cottage looks in superb shape. It seems you have done a great service to it Cobble,” Ginny says from the floor, doing a slightly better job at controlling her laughter but only slightly.

“Cobble, are there any good pubs in Portree,” Harry asks.

The elf begins to describe, in exact detail, the village of Portree; where all the important buildings are, where Ginny will be practicing with the team, notable areas prone to geographically tied magic, and the location of every single pub in the town. Harry is already grateful for Cobble.

About twenty minutes later she ceases talking and gazes at Harry.

“Would Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley like something for dinner?”

“Yes, Cobble, that would be lovely. Whatever you make will do.”

The elf was shaking with excitement and got to work.

Harry climbs the stairs right next to the kitchen door. When he comes to the first floor, he discovers only one door. He opens it to discover that Ginny has already made herself at home. Conveniently, it occupies the floor with the least number of stairs to climb. Harry begins to climb the steep stairs once more.

He reaches the next level and grabs the doorknob to open the room. The room is identical in size to Ginny’s; small but charming. The small windows, occupying nearly every wall, are draped with light, breezy blue curtains. The room is painted a heather gray with a few empty, shelves attached to his immediate right. The carpet is soft and worn, but the room smells like fresh linens, not old or dusty like the bottom level. A small wardrobe stands next to the door. He makes a move toward it, but just as he opens the doors, he hears a crack and Cobble is standing before him.

“Cobble wishes to tell Mr. Harry Potter that dinner is ready and that you have an owl waiting downstairs for you.”

“Thank you Cobble.”

For the second time, today, he has been scared out of his mind by the house elf.

He opens his trunk and begins depositing his items into the wardrobe. He moves to the nightstand next to his bed, and places the picture of his parents, along with the picture of him, Ron and Hermione, on top of it. He feels at home already and wishes that Ron and Hermione were here to see him. He misses his friends as he thinks of their last meeting before he left. It had gone well, if not for the momentary confusion on Hermione’s end.

“But-But HARRY! Scotland?! Portree?! Ginny?! You and Ginny aren’t...?”

“NO!” both him and Ron exclaimed.

“Listen I know it’s a bit odd, but I think I need this. A break from the norm. And it seemed like perfect timing with Ginny leaving and all. And please, believe me, there is nothing going on with me and Ginny. You know she’s not really my…type.”

Ron and Hermione chuckled while Harry blushed.

“We know mate, it’s just been quite a while since we’ve seen you with anyone, bloke or girl alike, so I think Hermione was just covering all her bases, yeah? Besides Ginny said she would marry a garden gnome before she got back together with you,” said Ron.

Harry and Hermione died laughing at the thought. It took a while to catch their breath before they continued talking.

“Listen, we’re only an owl away. If you need anything while in Portree, please don’t hesitate to speak to us.”

Hermione locked him in a crushing hug, while Ron patted his back.

Harry’s eyes sting as he thinks back on his years with Ron and Hermione. He had never lived this far from them. While he gazes at the picture, the full weight of his relocation sinks into his chest. He hadn’t considered the distance he was putting in between him and his closest friends because he was too busy running away from his problems. His shortsightedness had caused him to lose his grip on the relationships he depended on so heavily. But now was the time to start anew. He would be alright if not a little lost for a while.

As he finishes straightening up and settling in, Ginny busts into his room.

“Harry, this owl downstairs is about to peck our eyes out if you don’t read its message soon.”

He closes his trunk, shoves it into the bottom of the wardrobe, and exits the room.

When he enters the kitchen, he doesn’t recognize the owl. It has upturned eyebrow looking feathers, and its eyes are a ghastly yellow color, giving it a severe look of disapproval. It clicks its beak and reaches for Harry with its talon. He takes the parchment and unravels the message:

Harry-

I have heard through certain channels that you are accompanying miss Ginny Weasley while she resides in Portree during her primary season with The Pride. It would mean a great deal to me if we could speak at the Welcome Ball this Friday. It is of some urgency.

Regards,

V. Krum

Krum. Viktor Krum. _The_ Viktor Krum.

Harry is stunned at the message and has no idea why Viktor Krum would want to speak to him.

“What is the Welcome Ball and why does Viktor Krum think I’m going to be there?”

Ginny is sipping on a cup of tea Cobble has given her when she begins choking on it.

“Viktor Krum! It makes perfect sense, he’s just retired from Bulgaria-

“Ginny!”

“Oh, Harry! I had completely forgotten!”

“No, you didn’t. You were just going to spring it on me because you knew that if I had time to react, I would have decided not go to this thing.”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Well, out with it! What is this ball I’m going to?”

“At the start of every season, Portree has a Welcome Ball. Basically, just a party to introduce new team members or support staff to everyone else. You know a get together before training camp starts. Please, come Harry! You owe me!”

Harry steps back and looks at her incredulously.

“I’m sorry? I owe you? You’re the one who owes me for moving out here!”

“Now, Harry, why would you say such a thing to the girl whose heart you broke at the ripe age of seventeen?” Ginny's lip trembles.

“You can’t use that every time you want something from me.”

“I can. And I most certainly will. Every. Time.”

She has a point. He concedes and lets out a long groan.

“Fine. But I am going to get so pissed.”

“Makes two of us!”

The owl looks at Harry, with what feels like disdain, when he realizes that the bird is probably waiting on a reply. He looks around and is met with a pop of parchment and quill, courtesy of Cobble, and scribbles a response:

Viktor-

Look forward to speaking with you.

-HP

Harry attaches the response, and with what seems like an annoyed disposition, the owl takes off through an open kitchen window.

Harry looks at the table and is in awe of the meal. There is a small plank of roast beef, with a generous mountain of baked chicken pieces, steaming, hot potatoes, green beans, and a loaf of bread so puffy, it looks comfortable enough to sleep on. There is a pitcher of pumpkin juice and a bottle of wine, standing by to be uncorked if required. There are several puddings and a treacle tart. Ginny’s eyes are big as she takes the meal in with the same impression as Harry.

Harry grabs a plate and begins scooping out heaps of everything while Ginny opens the wine. She reaches for the red meat and the potatoes. Harry stocks up on chicken, puddings and of course the treacle. Cobble is watching them as they pile the food onto their plates with fascination. Harry and Ginny must look like a pair of rabid animals.

“Cobble will leave you to eat,” the elf is about to leave when Harry stops her.

“Wait, Cobble, would you care to join us? There is plenty to eat, and it only seems fair to invite you to something you’ve worked so hard on.”

Cobble looks at Harry as if he is asking her to burn down the house.

“Cobble…Cobble does not want to intrude. It is non-traditional for an elf to dine with wizards. Cobble does not know what to say.”

“Say yes,” Ginny says with her mouth full of food,” He will ask you every time we eat. Believe you me dear Cobble, Harry is unlike most wizards and is dearly loved by a house elf in his own residence in London.”

Cobble looks at Harry as if trying to figure out if it is some test. Eventually, the elf moves gradually to grab a small plate and begins to spoon tiny helpings of everything she has made. She finds the tallest chair in the house and moves it towards the table. Slowly and cautiously, Cobble begins to eat.

“Cobble, one quick thing,” Ginny said as she takes a sip of her wine while Cobble freezes mid-bite, “Please, do not call me Ginevra. It’s Ginny.”

“Yes, Miss Ginny Weasley. Cobble understands.”

After a somewhat quiet meal, Harry and Ginny retire to their rooms while Cobble cleans up. As she moves around the kitchen, it seems she contains more bounce.

Ginny is climbing the landing towards her room when she turns on Harry.

“I am sorry I didn’t mention the party. I just, I don’t know, assumed that you wouldn’t want to go because you know you’re…. you and sometimes it’s hard for you to be in those situations where you want to be just Harry. Not Harry Potter, defender of Wizards and defeater of You-Know-Who!”

“It’s alright. I just hope people don’t ask us a lot of questions. This will be the first time we’re seen together, alone, in public since we were young. I... I don’t want to people to start gossiping. Because I don’t want it to overshadow your introduction to the team. I don’t want people to think-“

Ginny puts up her hand.

“Harry, people will always be talking about you. I am sorry, but people have been talking about you since you were a baby, and people will still be talking about you after you are long gone. I’m not saying you need to get used to it, but I am saying there is no point in fighting it. Us being out in public, together is definitely going to raise some eyebrows, but rest assured that the only people who will be intrigued are people we don’t know personally, and those people’s opinions don’t really matter. Alright?”

Harry looks at Ginny as a wave of gratitude washes over him. He hugs her because while it isn’t the ideal situation, running away from London to avoid any responsibility, he is happy to avoid his life with one of his best friends.  

“Alright, alright, I know you get mushy. But come on now, we got a big day tomorrow. Lots to do!”

“There is nothing for us to do tomorrow.”

“Harry my dear boy, we are going to a party tomorrow and as Merlin’s witness we are both going to look so damn good you’ll _want_ people to talk about it.”

Ginny’s hair swishes around her as she spins on the spot to move into her room, slamming the door behind her. Harry winces and smiles at the sound.

Once in his room, he opens a window to look out over the town of Portree as the clouds pour in. The sea breeze dances through his everywhere hair, and the cool notes of a brisk autumn to come are whispering as he shuffles towards his bed to lay down for the night.

He removes his glasses, and as he places them on his bedside table, the thought of his new life beginning tomorrow swims around his sleepy head. Harry can’t figure out why, but he feels like tomorrow will bring the change he’s been waiting on for a very, very long time.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cobble is a precious little bean and I have come to really love her. Now, I'm not sure if handkerchiefs count as a piece of clothing... I just liked the thought of her bouncing around the house with these cute handkerchiefs made into an adorable tiny dress. 
> 
> What do we think? Handkerchief as a clothing item and it should be changed? Or who cares it's just a tiny dress for an adorable house elf? Let me know!


	6. The Daily Prophet

Harry wakes the next morning to the wind moving freely about his room. He grabs his glasses, and has a moment where he can’t quite place where he is. Just as quickly, he realizes that the noise level is not what he is accustomed to and remembers that Portree lies outside his window, not London.

He rolls out of bed to dress properly. He goes and pulls out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt Ginny gave him for his birthday a few years ago; it was green and had a flying Ginny on it when she was still playing for the Harpies. Harry loved how embarrassed she got when he wore it. He tries to wrangle his hair in the mirror on the inside of the wardrobe but without much success. He leaves to find some breakfast.

As he reaches the door to the kitchen he hears Cobble moving around on the other side. He walks in to see eggs scooping themselves onto a giant serving plate while a kettle pours hot water into a mug. Harry takes a seat at the small table he was sitting at the previous night. He hadn’t realized that it sat next to a huge window that overlooked the garden. Cobble pulls him out of the gaze when she drops a small plate of toast and beans.

“Cobble has much to do today Harry Potter, and cannot join you and Ginev- Ginny Weasley for breakfast,” her nerves were scattered across the statement. Harry felt that maybe the elf was scared of him being angry.

“Cobble, let’s make a deal? How about you join us for dinner when you feel comfortable enough to join us? Unless you want to eat every meal-“

“NO! I mean, no Harry Potter. Dinner when Cobble feels,” she swallows hard, “Comfortable!”

With that final statement, she leaves with a pop. The breakfast is still serving itself long after she exits, forcing Harry to ponder on how much magic house elves were in possession of.

He began eating the eggs, beans, and toast. As he takes his first bites, an enormous barn owl flies through the window, landing on a counter with a flumpf. Attached to the bird’s leg is the Daily Prophet. He takes the paper from the bird as it pecks him joyfully. Once Harry unfolds it, the owl flaps it’s massive wings and flies out the way it came in.

Harry normally didn’t read the Prophet but wanted to turn a new leaf. Perhaps now is the moment to let the past transgressions go, and focus on all the positive he is witnessing in his life currently. So, why not peruse the Daily Prophet?

He glances at the front page and sees a mix of news: criticisms on the Ministry, some charmed house cats and their ability to levitate making their way through France and Germany, and Celestina Warbuck announcing her retirement (for the 114th time).

As Harry takes a seat to enjoy his breakfast once more, he turns the page and sees a moving picture of himself. He’s wearing his clothes from yesterday and the picture shows a jubilant looking Harry leaving his flat in London and into the arms of Ginny in a hug. His stomach turns to knots. The headline reads: “SACKED AUROR, HARRY POTTER, MAKES FOR SCOTLAND WITH OLD FLAME GINEVRA WEASLEY.”

He reads while he silently plans on burning this issue once he finishes:

_Sources at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement report that Harry Potter, made famous for his defeat of Lord Voldemort, and at one point dubbed Witch Weekly’s “Most Eligible Bachelor of the Century”, was sacked two weeks ago, following a blemished and intolerable career. The sacking, at the hands of Head Auror, Morrigan O’Hannen, was viciously received by Potter, causing him to curse O’Hannen as he left the Ministry. No charges have been filed._

Ginevra Weasley, _one-time_ _girlfriend to Luna Lovegood and Harry Potter respectively, has recently been named Team Captain to the Pride of Portree_ , _and has relocated to the_ s _mall village on the Isle of Skye in Scotland. Team officials announced her this morning, and are now anticipating a bright season for the first female Captain in years. But how can a promising witch of her age flourish with the shadow of ‘The Boy Who Lived’ looming over her?_

_While my sources indicate that the two are now living together in Portree, alone, none of them can verify the state of their relationship. Is Miss Weasley cozying up to Potter in the midst of her dramatic break from Lovegood? Have these two young lovers finally finished their roundabout and are settling down in Portree? And if not Miss Weasley, then who will be so lucky (or unlucky) to win our beloved Harry Potter’s heart?_

_This story is in development._

_Rita Skeeter: Special Correspondent for the Daily Prophet_

Harry rips the paper up and tosses the bits up in the air. He draws his wand and sets them all aflame right there in the kitchen. He is fuming, but unlike those paper bits now floating to ash, his anger will not be so easy to destroy.

This is exactly the kind of shit he was avoiding when it came to his romantic life. Sure, Harry had seen a few people since…But they had never been anything Harry sent an owl about! They were few and fizzled out before either party was heavily involved. But Harry knew that someone somewhere was going to see him and Ginny and assume. This scenario had been swimming in Harry’s head since he had agreed to come with her.

A few moments later a struggling Little Owl comes whizzing into the kitchen. It drops a deep, scarlet envelope on his head. The owl promptly zooms out of the kitchen as Harry thinks that the owl knew exactly what it was carrying and seemed determined to get as far as possible from it.

He picks it up off the ground, reads to whom it is addressed, to him of course, and weighs it in his hand. He wishes he could just go back to bed, and pretend that he never woke up. He turns it over, and tears the seal. A bellowing, female voice is sounding:

“HARRY POTTER! WHEN MY DAUGHTER TOLD ME SHE WAS MOVING IN WITH YOU TO PURSUE HER CAREER IN PORTREE, NEVER DID SHE MENTION YOU AND HER WERE TOGETHER! IF ONE WORD OF THIS RUBBISH IS TRUE, I WILL HAVE YOU BANNED FROM WEASLEY CHRISTMASES! SEND GINNY MY CONGRATULATIONS!”

Traditionally, the letter would shred itself up, but before the howler finishes howling, it spits out a smaller, non-red envelope from inside itself. He opens it.

_Harry-_

_It’s Arthur. I hope you are well. Please, disregard my wife’s outburst, but do encourage Ginny to write us immediately to clear up any confusion on the matter. We know the Prophet is spewing nonsense, but Molly would feel much better hearing it directly from the source._

_Do enjoy the rain,_

_Arthur_

Harry knew Molly loved him like her own son but felt that, at times, dating Ginny was the biggest mistake he could have made. He loved the Weasley’s with all his heart and knew when he and Ginny broke up, he essentially broke up with the whole family. But upon receiving an invitation to Christmas that year, Harry assumed all had been forgiven. Clearly, he needed a lesson in how families like this worked when it came to a their one and only daughter.

Just as he lost himself in those thoughts again, Ginny burst into the kitchen wearing Chudley Cannon pajamas and insane looking hair. She had her wand drawn.

“What’s happening?! Is someone attacking you, Harry?!”

“No. It’s fine. Put your wand away. It was just a howler.”

She made a sound of relief, grabbed her hair, and twirled it up with her wand.

“I hoped so. For a moment I thought my mother was attacking you, but I was still pretty sleepy when I grabbed my wand.” She chuckles as she grabs the kettle to pour into a cup.

She crosses her feet in the chair opposite Harry as she begins to sip her tea.

“So, what was that shouting?”

“Your mother. Via Howler.”

“What? What did she have to yell at you about? She loves you. I think she loves you more than me, honestly, “ she says as she takes another long sip.

“I wouldn’t say that. But they want you to write them to sort out some confusion about you and me.”

“What confusion?”

He recounted the article he read. As he outlines the details, Ginny goes still. She gets a dark look in her eyes and stops sipping her tea. As Harry finishes his explanation he can feel Ginny’s anger leaking from her like a very flammable gas. Harry had only seen her like this one other time (Ron breaking her Firebolt during her third season with the Harpies), and what followed was a verbal lashing he wished to never repeat…ever.

“Are you telling me, that my mum, _my_ mum, believes this rubbish in the Prophet!? I TOLD HER! I TOLD HER! I made it perfectly clear that you and I were not together! I said, ‘Mum, Harry is moving in with me. No, we are not getting back together. He’s gay, I’m gay!’ IT. DOESN’T. WORK. LIKE. THAT! But no, she flies off the handle regardless? Harry, I am so sorry. And for the record, it was a mutual break up between Luna and I. Not some dramatic scene that cow is writing about!”

As she finishes her tirade, Harry’s head snaps up.

“The Witch! THE WITCH FROM YESTERDAY! I bet she leaked that we were here in Portree together. She seemed pretty displeased at that comment you told her. Plus, the only other people who know are people close to us, and they wouldn’t do that. “

“Harry, everyone involved with The Pride knows we’re here…together. It’s not that giant of a secret. But dragging Luna into it is unforgivable."

Harry thinks and leaves the theory of the witch acting as a spy behind. It does nothing to ebb his anger and Ginny is still seething.

“I’m sorry Ginny.” She sighs and looks at Harry.

“Harry, there’s nothing to apologize for. But I feel like I’m eating my words a bit. It’s hard to tell you to ignore all this venomous attention when it gets forced into your morning tea.”

Harry gives her a weak smile and refuses to give into the shite morning they’ve had. He extends his hand towards her and she takes it.

“It’s not fun but don’t let them win. They’re not worth it, Gin.”

Her face falls a bit as Harry takes her in his arms. She sighs and then pulls away. She looks at his t-shirt for the first time and groans.

“Why are you wearing that?” Harry looks down, pinches it away from his body and starts to smile.

“You gave this to me!”

“Yeah but that was when I was overly obsessed with my image and gave everyone Harpie stuff for every holiday that year. Burn it!”

“No. This is a very comfortable shirt.” She giggles and starts to look at the breakfast.

“Right then. What do we have here?”

She begins to dig into the food laid out and the moment of wreckage has passed.

A few moments later, they finish eating and Ginny goes upstairs to write her mum. Harry tries to tell her it’ll be okay, but she’s taking the steps two at a time and seems to have a bit of ferocity to her walk. Harry hopes she’ll go easy on her mum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello party people!!!
> 
> It's okay if you hate me for not posting that often. I kind of hate me too BUT I will say I am very sorry that I have not been updating the way I said I would. That whole real life thing hits kind of hard.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. And please, as always, comments are encouraged :)


	7. Reminiscing

The day passes lazily with Harry wandering around the house, attempting to familiarize himself with all the exits. He locates notable sections where the history of the house is apparent. He finds a library dedicated to the study of Quidditch: it’s theories, team histories, centuries of strategy and a tapestry emblazoned with The Pride’s colors, Deep Purple with Gold Stars, and this season’s roster in place. Ginny’s name is already woven in at the top with the glowing title, TEAM CAPTAIN, underneath. He also finds a locked, deep blue door. Harry makes a note to ask Cobble about it later.

He also comes across a closet full of nothing but old Quidditch supplies. Brooms dating from the early twentieth century all the way to the Cleansweep 5, spilled on him along with dozens of balls. It mainly consists of deflated quaffles, a few ancient looking bludgers, and one snitch that stretched its wings sleepily, only for it to coil around itself again as if it were a lazy cat being rudely awoken from a much-needed nap.

As Harry prepares to go explore the gardens and surrounding area, he feels Ginny tug at his arm.

“Oh, no you don’t! It’s time to get ready for this party, and there is no way you’re going to traipse around the garden to get all mucked up. Shower, primp and then suit time.”

“You cannot be serious. It isn’t for another three hours… “

“Don’t want to hear it. Go take a shower,” she points towards the stairs with her arm fully extended while her bony finger accents the command. He takes them slowly.

Due to his explorations from earlier in the day, Harry had located the bathroom. It was on his level of the house and had felt like it appeared overnight right across from his room because Harry could have sworn that he hadn’t seen it there before.

He showers as though his life depends on it. He scrubs everything twice and then sits in the shower trying to think of the last time he showered like this: it was a date with one of those blokes he had tried and failed miserably with.

Harry had met him during a night out with Ron and Hermione while celebrating a rather successful raid. He was average height, with hazel eyes, auburn hair, and freckled everywhere Harry could see, and as Harry would find out later, everywhere else he couldn't see.

Will was easy to talk to, easy to like, and just easy to be around in general. Harry had taken him to his favorite restaurant in his neighborhood, and after a dinner filled with just about every topic one could imagine, Will looked at Harry with a hunger that had nothing to do with food.

“So, Harry...what would I need to say to get you to invite me back to your place?”

He had ducked his chin, spoke in a low voice, and licked his lip, followed by a light nibble. Harry blushed dark and hot, but hoped he hadn’t noticed or caught on to how nervous he had been on the date.

“I’m not sure. Maybe ask me how far I live from here?”

Will leaned closer, which Harry hadn’t known was possible, laid a hand on top of Harry’s and asked, “Where’s your flat, Harry?”

Before Harry knew it, they were crashing through the front door of his flat, trying to suck each other’s face off it seemed. It had been a while since Harry had done anything like this anyone. His nerves were yelling at him to slow it down while Will was undoing Harry’s pants and sucking on his neck. They both kicked off their shoes and moved into the flat while Harry slammed the door shut.

Harry led Will towards the couch. Will promptly pushed him down as he removed Harry’s shirt. While he was finishing the buttons, Harry cupped his face and gazed into for a second. Will stopped, hesitantly, and looked for a moment right back at Harry.

“What is it,” he asked curiously, smiling the same devilish smile Harry had been mentally wrapping his lips around all through-out dinner.

Harry didn’t know at the time, but knew now, reflecting: Harry was looking for it. Whatever it was people were supposed to feel for each other, aside from the lust pounding inside his pants, when he looked at Will he didn’t feel it. It saddened him…

“Nothing. You’re gorgeous.”

Will smiled and blushed at this. He finished with the buttons, opened his shirt a bit, put his arms on either side of him, caging him in with his body and gazed at Harry’s body.

“Merlin…you are beautiful.”

Harry pulled Will in for another kiss and began removing his clothes. He pulled off his jumper and moved onto the undershirt as Harry gasped from one sloppy kiss to the other. Before he could grab Will’s belt, he stood up, gazing down at Harry’s crotch. Will reached for Harry’s pants, unzipped them, and removed them in one swift swoop. Will got down on his knees and removed his socks.

Will then dragged his nails from the ankles of his feet all the way to Harry’s thighs, scratching the sensitive inner thigh skin; the sensation was both tingling and enticing. He eventually reached around Harry’s hips, tucked his hands inside of his underwear, grabbed his arse and squeezed it hard while kissing him. Will’s tongue forced his lips apart time and time again, making sweet rhythms with the pressure Harry felt from his hands in his shorts. Will then removed his hands from the back, and hooked his thumbs into Harry’s waistband to relieve the pulsating erection from their prison.

Harry sprang forward as Will drug the underwear off his legs. He grabbed him forcefully while admiring him once again.

“Harry… that is one marvelous cock.”

Harry had to slow down his thoughts.

Will took Harry’s cock, dribbled a few drops of saliva onto it, and began pumping Harry. The sensation coated Harry from the nape of his neck all the way to where Will’s hand was firmly moving up and down. He felt his sexual tension melt away as the tautness before coming set in. Will’s opposite hand had migrated to Harry’s balls, and while he pumped, he began to massage them gently.

Harry was breathing hard, biting his lip, and trying to touch Will. Anywhere would suffice. As Harry sat up a bit, reaching for Will’s hair or chest, he took Harry’s middle and pointer finger into his mouth. Harry moaned deeply. He sucked hard while moving his hand from Harry’s underside to his back to support him before he crumpled onto Will.

Will pulled the fingers in deeper and got them wetter and wetter, moving his head back and forth, and would lick at them when he wasn’t sucking them. Harry felt the back of Will’s throat, and almost came right there, but to his success, he focused somewhere on Will that wasn’t as wet and hot.

Ripping his fingers out of his mouth, Harry grabbed both sides of Will’s head and placed a hard kiss on his mouth. He pulled away, short of breath, and said, “You know what would be marvelous? If you took that wonderful mouth of yours and placed it right here…” Harry placed his hand over Will’s which was still pumping Harry, hard and slow.

“I thought you would never ask.”

While Harry was still sitting up, Will took Harry’s enlarged cock into his mouth without hesitation. He moved his hands to Harry’s hips, steadying his head and rhythm. Meanwhile, Harry took a hand to grasp Will’s hair and the other supported his body as Will’s head moved slowly up and down. Harry moaned and grasped the back of his head, reveling in each delicious stroke of Will’s mouth moving over him.

Will would free his mouth from Harry to lick at the underside of his shaft. Will’s tongue moving along Harry was a visual he almost couldn’t take. He moved his mouth to start sucking his balls, gently, and then Harry would hear a pop, signaling he had sucked them enough and returned to Harry’s cock. He repeated this pattern over and over, causing Harry to lose any sense of time, place or who he was really.

Will’s moist mouth started to build speed, bobbing up and down with occasional eye contact thrown at Harry. The eyes signaled a hunger in Harry he hadn’t felt in months, and it wasn’t long until he felt the beginnings of his orgasm. The tightness he felt build behind his cock, as Will started to gather speed, would soon snap at the release of his body. He knew Will could feel the end nearing. He looked at Harry one last time, moaned deeply with his cock still in his mouth, and then slowly slipped a single finger into Harry. Almost immediately, Harry came hard into Will’s mouth, feeling the waves of cum coat the back of his throat while he swore and grasped Will’s hair tightly. Will moaned and moaned, accepting every drop of Harry’s fluid, as if it were water and Will was dying of thirst.

Once Harry had felt the last shiver of pleasure, Will removed his mouth and finger, simultaneously causing Harry to jump a little, he joined Harry on the couch and started to kiss his collarbone and neck.

“Holy fuck.”

Will giggled and continued on kissing Harry’s neck and had moved to his ears.

“Are you satisfied?”

Harry turned his head towards Will and looked at his enormous, hard cock.

“Well, no actually…”

Will, look affronted and confused.

“That was some of my best work!”

“No, what I mean to say is, wouldn’t you like to come?”

Will looked at Harry’s hand as it moved from its position onto Will’s pretty cock. Will was substantial enough, but wasn’t anything Harry couldn’t handle; even after the break he’s had.

“Well, I would like to, but I must warn you, I prefer to drive than ride.”

“You would rather fuck me than get fucked, right?”

“Not to put too finer a point on it but yeah.”

“Subtlety has never been my strong suit.”

With that last comment, he grabbed the side of Harry’s neck and kissed him hard. He then pulled him by his waist with his other hand, and quickly spun him around. Harry leaned onto his forearms against the arm of the couch as Will accioed lube from Harry’s bedroom. When Harry turned towards him, he shrugged, and said, “Lucky guess.”

He poured a bit out from the small vial and rubbed it all over Harry’s glorious hole. He massaged it thoroughly covering every part, coating it with the slick substance. Harry enjoyed every moment of this sensation and began to ache. Will situated himself on his knees, while testing Harry’s limits. He started with one finger…easing in and out, gently feeling the inside. One moves from two swiftly, and before Harry knew it, Will is fully finger fucking him as Harry moans and moans.

Harry’s started stroking himself now and felt himself begin to harden again. As Will’s fingers intensified, he stops and then begins lubing up his own cock. He’s stroking and stroking while gliding a slick hand all over Harry’s arse. Eventually he brings Harry towards his cock, and eases him onto him gently and slowly.

Harry moaned the loudest yet as he took Will in. Long breaths in and out relax him and then Will begins to thrust. Paced slow at first, leaning into Harry to kiss the nape of his neck. He moves with a gentle rhythm: back and forth, back and forth. Before Harry knows what he’s doing, he’s moving onto Will’s cock a little faster. Will stills and lets Harry ride him a little. Harry is grasping the edge of the couch, moaning, swearing, and then, just as he’s about to start going a little harder and faster, Will beats him to it.

He begins to work harder and faster into Harry. Pounding and pounding as Harry’s breathing quickens. Will is thrusting into Harry with an intensity that is already moving him into another orgasm. Will wets his hand as he continues to pump when he grabs Harry’s cock again. Harry straightens up and is now back to front on Will. Will is still driving his dick into him, over and over and over again as he pumps Harry up and down with more force than he was doing before. As Will begins to tighten his grip on Harry, Harry feels the familiar pull of his orgasm, and then Will pushes him back down on the arm of the sofa to finish inside of him.

Will thrusts and thrusts into Harry and with one good push, he’s filling Harry up. The sensation is phenomenal. Harry gives into his own orgasm and cums into his stroking hand. The cum pools on the couch, and he’s breathing rather hard. Will slowly pulls out of him and Harry is both relieved and aching.

As Harry thinks about that first time with Will, and the subsequent men that followed, he’s begun rubbing himself in the shower. He feels the bit behind his cock tighten and ready for release. The last thing he thinks of, to push him over the edge, isn’t Will at all, but the kiss he shared with Draco right before he left. Harry finishes with a small burst. His cum exits his body and circles down the drain. As he rubs himself empty, he thinks of the emotion he lacked with Will.

Eventually, Will wanted more with Harry. Harry couldn’t give that to him, so they broke up. He would see him at the pub every once and a while, but noticed about a year later that Will had married. Harry was happy for him, but wondered what made himself so inept in this department?

He missed being in love.

The sensation of having no control over how your heart felt, but completely accepting that fate whether it be good or bad. Giving over to trusting someone and loving without condition, and realizing that although it scared the hell out of him, he knew he wanted it. He wanted the feeling at the bottom of your belly that only got deeper as you thought about the other person more and more, and instead of dulling with time just grew wider and burned longer.

He wanted to feel the way he had felt with…Draco. Even thinking his name felt heavy. Like the weight attached to the base of his skull, reserved for thoughts on Draco, had been lowered into his abdomen, causing a slight ache to develop. He thought about how far he had come since they had broken up.

His healing process after Draco consisted a lot of apparating to random points in London, trying to forget the hole in his chest, caused by his departure, but he loved thinking about him and ended up roaming the streets just letting the thoughts of Draco crash on him. Draco had been fussy about certain things, and while Harry recounted several instances where they fought about them, the idiosyncrasies Draco possessed had gotten Harry through his darkest days by acting as a routine and emotional crutch.

The way Draco threw a small tantrum when there was no lemon for his tea. The way Harry’s hair was an absolute mess most of the time, and Draco’s attempts at fixing it proved futile. How Draco didn’t like it when Harry tried to hug him right after a fight. Draco desired space more than anything after a row. Whereas Harry required a hug almost immediately following one.

But once they had split, those things, and so many others, were gone. So, Harry distracted himself by pouring himself into every investigation that came to his desk; attempting to piece together cases was a lot easier than attempting to piece together a life he thought he had. It was in those years he had proven to be an acceptable Auror. People praised his turn around, but the progress felt empty.

After Harry had healed properly, he attempted to date like a normal wizard.

He dated just a few blokes, but each one always wanted something more from Harry. Harry tried to find it: the feeling that would spark his love to life, but it never happened. Ultimately, Harry resolved it within himself to think that if it happened again, he would welcome it, but found it quite daunting to seek a love that may not exist. Thus, Will was the last guy he had ever really tried with.

So, he hadn’t dated in about two years. But as time floated on, he found himself wanting to speak and see Draco again. He desired a chance to tell him how much he had meant to him and to apologize for causing him the pain.

Traditionally, he pushed away the thoughts of Draco as best he could when they bubbled to the surface, but as he tried to clear his head, he kept trying to think of what to say to him. Didn’t matter anyway, he thought, the likelihood of seeing Draco was slim.

By the time he finishes showering, Harry resembles a prune. He turns the water off, grabs his towel and moves towards the mirror and sink. He looks at himself.

His body had hardened over the years, giving him the physique of a toned and maintained man rather than the awkward, sharp body of a seventeen-year-old boy. His height had tapered off by the time his mid-twenties began, and he now stood a whole head and a half over Ginny. His once youthful eyes were now lined by the stress of the war, but it had done something to the greenness. His eyes had almost seemed…highlighted.

He sighs and decides that he’s sulked enough and leaves the bathroom, looking much less forward to the night than he did before he entered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter...things are finally getting steamy! I know, I know. It's not Draco and Harry but I must warn you, you're going to be getting a lot of sex scenes with Draco and Harry but not...together *ducks behind garbage can*
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. "Harry is looking straight at Draco Malfoy."

Harry enters his room and begins to dry off. He is about to take his towel off when Ginny busts in. He grabs for the towel immediately, exposing a bit of cheek and hip.

“Merlin’s saggy tit, Ginny! Please. Knock!”

She stands in her dressing gown, giggling and holding a garment bag.

“Sorry! Forgot you’re not a girl there for a moment, but judging by the length of that shower, one may be correct in that assumption. Goodness, Harry. What were you doing in there?”

Harry burns bright red, and ties the towel around his waist, securely.

“What’s that then,” he asks her as he points to the bag she’s carrying.

“Ah ha! This is the poshest suit you have ever seen and it is all yours!”

She lays it on the bed and begins to move towards the door where she hesitates in the doorway.

“You could always lock your door, ya know?”

Harry rips off his towel with no shame and throws it at her. A bugged eyed and screaming Ginny is leaving faster than he has ever seen her before. He goes to pick up the towel and slams his door.

He moves to the bed and opens the bag. Inside is the most beautiful suit he has ever seen.

It’s an emerald green, velvet jacket accented in black at the labels, pocket, and buttons. There are black trousers to match, along with a white silk shirt and a bowtie to match the jacket.

He removes it from the bag and dresses immediately. After he’s finished putting on all the small details, cufflinks, bowtie, suspenders and the like, Harry reaches for the jacket and puts it on. It fits him perfectly and feels as if it’s hugging him, not suffocating him. The sleeves are measured exactly to the length of his arms, and the break of the pants hits with precision. When he looks at himself in the mirror he feels…good.

Harry has never felt so attractive.

After a moment of awe, the confidence cracks a bit, he starts to fixate on details but tries to relax. He can look this good, be confident, and have a great time with Ginny. If he doesn’t linger inside his own insecurities for too long, this night will go well. He grabs his wand, tucking it into the pocket sewn on the inside especially for it and exits his room.

As he waits for Ginny downstairs, Harry remembers the owl he received from Viktor Kum. He wonders what he needs to speak to him about, and tries to reason it out? It had to be Quidditch related. Harry had no reason to think otherwise. It had been years since Harry had last seen Viktor, and wondered why he retired this early in his career? Viktor couldn’t have been older than thirty or thirty-one. Harry knew that most quidditch players didn’t retire until their late thirties to mid-forties. As he thinks it over, Ginny descends the stairs.

She is a dream in a deep purple dress.

The gown is floor length and has an airy quality to it. The fabric twirls around her feet, dancing as she walks down the stairs. The neckline extends all the way up to the base of her neck while the side is open from her underarm to her hip. The dressed hugs her torso and hips but begins to billow out at the knee. The back is open and comes to a peak at the small of her back. Lastly, tiny gold, glittering stars cover the dress starting in thick bunches at the bottom of the gown and thinning out as they near her neck. Her hair is down, wavy and parted to the side. She had done some makeup but kept it simple. She carries a small gold clutch that matches the stars on the dress perfectly.

“Ginny, you look amazing!”

“Do you like it? I had it made for the party but added the gold stars last minute when they told me I made captain. Don’t think it’s too, I don’t know, ‘Hey look at me!’?”

“Yes. But why is that a bad thing?”

She flushed a deep red and looked at Harry.

“You look positively breathtaking, Potter! This jacket! I knew, I _knew_ , it would look great with your eyes! You’re going to kill in this suit. And together, we make quite a pair.”

Cobble pops in and hands them their traveling cloaks. Harry grabs Ginny’s, a formal crème colored cloak that glistens like a full moon, and then takes his, a deep burgundy cloak that Hermione gifted to him because “It’s immature to travel in an invisibility cloak.” He feels radiant even in the cloak. After Cobble wishes them a goodnight, Ginny takes his arm and they leave the house.

Moments later, they land with a pop in front of a grand estate where the ball has already begun. They steady themselves a bit before heading into the festivities.

The dark gray, stone estate looks to be the size of a small castle. It’s surrounded by tremendous trees that look ancient, and shrubs line the wall, curving to each part of the structure. Around the front of the house, they see a few carriages, possibly for more decadent wizards trying to make an impression. The gravel path leading them to the door crunches under their feet

As they’re walking, they pass a couple who seem to be having a row, but have paused to turn their heads momentarily, gazing at the Harry and Ginny without any sense of propriety, before re-engaging in their dispute. They spot a large wizard in all black near the door. He waits for them expectantly.

He’s bald with deep set eyes, taller than Harry by nearly a whole head, and looks like he could eat an entire hippogriff for dinner. Once they enter the glow of the candles attached to the entrance, the wizard recognizes Harry and his face drops a bit.

“Eve-evening Miss. Name?” He pulls a piece of parchment from his pocket and looks at it, ready to receive Ginny’s name.

“Ginevra Weasley with guest Harry Potter.”

The wizard stops at the top, nods his head and waves his wand at the door. He seems like he wants to say something to Harry but stops himself as they pass him.

They walk down a long hall lined with paintings. Some subjects are snoozing quietly and soundly, some are moving around excitedly because of the ball, and one even whistles at Ginny, stopping her dead in her tracks. She flicks the painting in the face, and while he wrinkles his nose and looks angrily at her, Harry laughs and they continue on.

They reach the top of the staircase, and Harry’s nerves are in a bunch. He looks out and notices that nearly everyone who isn't dancing has stopped to look at him and Ginny. He takes in the sea of faces, trying not to lose himself while attempting to regulate his breathing when he feels Ginny tighten at his side, and her flat-out refusal to walk any further. He turns to her and she looks like she’s about to scream. Harry looks in the direction that Ginny is staring at and feels his whole body go numb while catching fire at the same time.

Harry is looking straight at Draco Malfoy.

Harry cannot move. He cannot breathe. He can barely think, but before Draco Malfoy’s face has completely registered with Harry, he’s moving down the stairs with Ginny mildly tugging at him.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Ginny swears under her breath.

“Did you know he was going to be here?” Harry asks with panic rising to his surface.

“Harry, I swear on my unborn children, that I had no idea he was going to be here or why, for that matter.”

They make it to the end of the stairs, with no idea how, and people charge them with smiles, well wishes and general excitement for their arrival. Harry tries not to scan the crowd for an oncoming Draco, but he is finding it very hard to control his need.

Ginny is shaking hands with people, various witches and wizards, Harry assumes, involved with The Pride in some way. A large wizard, with no hair, a heavy brow, and quite possibly the most stern face he has ever seen approaches Ginny. She tenses visibly as he relaxes his face.

“About time ye arrived, Weasley! They were damn near ready to send out a party looking for ye,” He slaps Ginny on the back, and roars with laughter. Ginny laughs nervously.

“Harry, I’d like you to meet my manager, Domnhall MacKenzie. Dom, this is Harry Potter,” she grins brightly as if Harry is her son.

“Harry Potter! A man that requires no introduction I suspect! What an absolute pleasure it is!” He grabs Harry’s hand/arm with an expected force. Dom seems made of smiling, good times and a bit of drink. He reminds Harry of a younger version of Hagrid.

“Dom MacKenzie, Head Manager for The Pride for eighteen years now! Two league cups and never been more excited to see someone make team captain. Well, don’ let me keep ye! I’ll be thievin’  Gin away in a moment so don’t go too far, eh?!”

Laughing nervously, Harry and Ginny move from the throng of people, and nearly clear it when another Pride affiliate accosts them.

“Ginny Weasley! So good to see you again,” the witch tells her while beaming at Harry. “And this must be Harry Potter! Simply delighted, Harry!” The slender and pointy witch holds her hand towards Harry. He shakes it as he looks at her: she has bright purple hair and is wearing a gold, if not slightly outdated dress. She is put together but only barely.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name, madam?”

“How silly of me,” she threw back her head with her hand against her forehead in a dramatic gesture.

“I am Margaret Ainsbury, Head of Directors for The Pride of Portree.”

This woman was important if not slightly deranged it seemed.

“Please, Ginny, we are about to start the introduction ceremony. I need you near the front shortly. And mind you, while we will only be introducing two new players to the team, we have a couple of new faces on the support staff that we will be introducing as well.”

Harry’s ear perked up, and looked at Madam Ainsbury, “I’m sorry Madam Ainsbury, but could I ask whom else is new this year? To the support staff that is?”

“Well, wouldn’t you know it, Viktor Krum, the seeker for Bulgaria, retired abruptly and sought employment in the British and Irish Leagues. Of course, I had to snatch him up before anyone else could, and then, someone you all may know, Draco Malfoy, is our new equipment manager. But I daresay, we could see more support staff added as the season moves on.”

She lingers on Harry momentarily before hurries towards the stage.

“Support staff! How could I miss something like that? Never in a million years…Harry! I am so incredibly sorry! I wasn’t thinking, of course I knew he worked for Falmouth, but never-“

“What?”

She burns red and looks to her hands.

“What do you mean you knew he worked for Falmouth?”

“Harry, Draco worked for the Falmouth Falcons for three years. Almost, the entire time after you two split up. I had heard through the Quidditch circles about him, and he was a brilliant flying coach. But last season, he up and quit the Falcons and moved to America. I didn’t want to tell you because it just seemed like you never really wanted to know. It’s stupid to say it out loud now. I should have told you.”

“Why did he move to America?”

“Oh, Harry. He moved-“

But before she can finish, Dom is dragging her to the stage, and Harry is by himself, surrounded by strangers. So many questions are swimming in his head, and so many feelings are circling his chest. He could feel the tension pooling inside of him.

How could Draco be here?

Harry decides he is standing too close to the stage and begins to make a move for the back of the large room. Large drapes decorate the walls in Portree’s colors, and Harry notices for the first time that it matches Ginny’s dress exactly. He situates himself against a massive pillar, as far from the front of the room as possible.

He watches Madam Ainsbury walk across the stage, parking her tall figure behind a podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, The Club of The Pride of Portree welcomes you to the annual Introductory Ball,” she announces.

“It is with immense pleasure that I get to introduce to you four key members to our team this year. They include two new first team players, and two support staff members. As many of you know, this past summer has been troubling with Porteee’s good name in and out of the Daily Prophet, but I assure you, as Head of Directors for the club, that this season will be one of the best yet, and that anyone who dares to count Portree out of the League Cup, will be reckoned with on the pitch!”

Everyone roars with applause and Ainsbury glows at the reception.

“Without further ado I would like to introduce our new support staff members. Direct from Bulgaria, and fresh off the pitch himself, I would like to introduce your new Assistant Manager, VIKTOR KRUM!”

The ballroom erupts into cheers, and Harry is nearly deafened with the excitement from the crowd. The party can’t have that many witches and wizards present, but their voices are carrying with every cheer, scream and holler.

Krum walks from off stage somewhere. He stops dead center, and waves a very cordial wave, then takes a seat on one of the four chairs Harry hadn’t noticed before.

“Thank you so much Mister Krum. Next on our roster for support staff, back from a break in America, and formerly of the Falmouth Falcons, please welcome your new Equipment Manager, DRACO MALFOY!”

Before Harry can register Draco’s presence again, he hears whooping and hollering from someone near the front of the stage.

“WOO! DRACO.” The man is clapping as hard as he can, and whistling at impossible volumes. Harry looks at him, and even though he can’t make out details, Harry knows he is attractive. But he doesn’t hold Harry’s attention long.

He looks at Draco and everything slows down.

He looks older but not in the sense of aging; he seems wiser, more experienced now. He is wearing a light gray suit, with a maroon tie, and a white shirt. He looks impeccable, Draco always did, but the light suit threw Harry as an odd choice. Draco had always preferred darker colors like the emerald Harry was wearing, but then again, Harry knew that four years did a lot to people, and something as simple as taste could alter drastically in that amount of time.

His hair is still white blonde, and slick, but the hair has been shaved at the sides and a small bun stands atop his head. He looks the same height, but not the same physique. Like Harry, Draco has filled out in some way and isn’t quite as pointy as he had once been.

He looked good and Harry groaned.

Draco stops dead center of the stage, waves like Krum and then takes his seat.

“Thank you for that warm applause. Now, for our new team members. Joining us all the way from Kyoto, Japan, please give a warm welcome to our new Chaser, KIKO AKIYAMA!”

The woman, dressed in a tight fitting, tubular black dress, walks across the stage, stopping briefly in the center to bow, and then moves to her seat. The applause is minimal but present.

“And now, I am extremely proud to introduce our new seeker and Team Captain, witches and wizards, please give a standing welcome to GINEVRA WEASLEY!”

Harry can’t help himself and is cheering louder than anyone else. Ginny crosses the stage, looking a Pride of Portree dream in her team colors and is washed with overflowing pride and raw exuberance.

As Ginny glides towards the podium where Madam Ainsbury stands, Harry notices the look on Draco’s face. One of surprise of course, but immediate panic. Perhaps Draco is feeling exactly what he felt at the top of the stairs: sheer, unadulterated hysteria.

Ginny moves in front of the podium as Madam Ainsbury shifts slightly to the side. She pulls out some small cards from her clutch. Harry stands there in awe at his friend. She has become one of the youngest Quidditch captains in decades, and was well on her way to unfiltered success. Harry beamed.

“Thank you, Madam Ainsbury. Please, give her a round of applause.”

People were clapping cordially as Ginny continued. Harry, now realizing this was a speech, moved a little closer.

“When I became a professional Quidditch player, I knew that I wanted to do great things. Win league cups, play at an international level, and be on my very own Chocolate Frog Card,” she paused for laughter,” But more than anything, I wanted to leave my mark on Quidditch history. By making captain at such a young age I hope to achieve legendary League status by being the youngest Quidditch team Captain to take their team to the League Cup and win!”

The roaring applause takes hold of the ballroom and causes the walls to vibrate.

“Let’s hear it one more time for the newest members of The Pride of Portree, and what hopes to be a historic season!”

Ginny is smiling, and before Harry knows it, he’s moving towards the stage to grab her in a massive hug before she can get taken away by anyone else.

As she sets her foot down on the ground, Harry grabs her up in an enormous hug and spins her around.

“You were amazing! What a deceleration! You are going to be fabulous this season!”

He sets her down before she wiggles out of his arms, and she hits his shoulder.

“Merlin’s socks! You’re going to embarrass me. But did you like it? Wasn’t too lofty was it?”

“No! It’s great to have big dreams and goals. Makes life more interesting and fun.”

“Oh, Harry, I just hope I can be what they deserve in a captain! The Pride hasn’t had much leadership in the past few years, and I feel like I owe them a real competitive season.”

“Ginny, you are going to knock them dead! Don’t worry. “

As they’re talking animatedly, someone taps Harry on the shoulder, and without thinking Harry turns around, beaming and laughing.

Draco is looking straight at Harry Potter.

Up close he is more beautiful than Harry remembers. Most important though, he looks happy.

“Potter. It’s been…a while. Ginny, I had no idea we were working for the same team, and I am more than on board for a league cup win!” He leans in for a hug and she receives him graciously. He plants a light kiss on her cheek as he pulls away.

“Good to see you Draco, and nor did I. But, thank you for the support. I think I’m going to need it. Speaking of, I need to go speak to Dom about something. Good to see you Draco.” She gives Harry a hard squeeze on the shoulder while walking away with a ‘good luck’ look on her face. Harry can feel himself starting to sweat, and his stomach is grumbling as it ties itself in knots.

 “So…you look great.” Harry couldn’t even look Draco in the eyes let alone comment on the state of him.

“You as well. How have been? Do you like Portree?” Too many questions.

“Um, no, I haven’t always been with The Pride. I was with Falmouth before, but something tells me you already knew that?”

Caught.

“Yeah. Ginny informed me right as we got here. Have to admit, it took us both by surprise. Seeing you here. In Portree…”

“I share the feeling. Well, it seems you’re happy. I’m sure everyone expected you and Ginny to go this way, but I could have sworn you-“

“NO!” A few people around them began to stare at them as Harry has literally shouted at Draco. He feels himself burning red in the face.

“I’m sorry. No. Um, would you actually mind if we took a walk if we’re going to have a real conversation?”

“Not at all. Probably for the best anyway. Let me tell my boyfriend I’m stepping out for a bit. Jesse!”

Walking towards them was the wizard Harry saw making an absolute fuss over Draco when he was walking the stage. Up close, it was harder to look at him.

He was tall and tan with dark hair and a muscled body that gave away, almost right away, that he was an athlete. He wore a dark blue suit with a white shirt that was unbuttoned at the top. No tie. He looked effortless and chic, something Harry is sure he is probably very good at. He stood at the same height as Harry and looks like he was trying to puff himself up a bit as he walks up to Draco’s side. Harry unconsciously mimics his behavior. They both stand about a head above Draco.

“Jesse, this is Harry Potter. Harry this is Jesse Zamaripa. He is the Team Captain and chaser on the Sweetwater All-Stars. It’s a Quidditch team based in-“

“Sweetwater, Texas. Of course! Jesse, it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you! I follow the American circuit a bit and have seen you play. You are phenomenal,” Harry shakes Jesse’s hand enthusiastically and means every word he has said. But he is intimidated.

Jesse looks surprised.

“A pleasure, Harry. Draco has told me so much about you.”

“Merlin. I’m sure most of it is one hundred percent true and awful.” They all laugh lightly.

“Not really. Actually, he speaks very highly of you.” These last words are spoken as Jesse moves a few stray hairs from Draco’s forehead.

Draco stills under Jesse’s touch as Harry looks away. This man is gorgeous, a successful athlete, American, and seems to really love and care for Draco. Harry’s side aches as he is faced with the absolutely most painful thing he’s felt in a while: sheer inadequacy.

“Do you mind if I take a stroll with Harry for a moment? A bit of catching up is in order.”

“Not at all. I’m going to go find Viktor Krum. I want to pick his brain.” He chuckles. He reaches towards Harry with a hand extended.

“Harry, it was great to meet you, and I’m sure we I will be seeing you soon.”

“Likewise, good luck this season!”

He pecks Draco on the cheek and then starts to move away from them through the crowd, leaving open mouthed witches and wizards in his wake, something Harry is sure he does daily.

“He seems incredible,” Harry sighs as he says this.

“He’s more than I deserve most of the time.”

“You deserve the best.” The words are out before he can help himself. Draco shifts uncomfortably and Harry wants to stick his head in a bin.

“Well, shall we?”

Draco gestures towards two glass doors that lead to the gardens surrounding the estate. Harry has no idea what to expect but knows that this night shaping up to be completely unexpected.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE HAVE ARRIVED! You guys deserved this so much for being so patient with me! I hope you enjoy, but this will probably be the last update for a couple weeks. 
> 
> Don't be too sad. I'm cooking up some great ideas and this story has already taken some unexpected turns that I am incredibly excited for you all to read!
> 
> Happy reading! Comments welcome :)


	9. Moonlight Strolls with an Ex

As Harry and Draco leave the room, he looks back to find an awestruck Ginny looking at him. She’s confused and intrigued. Harry is positive he will face an interrogation as soon as they return to the Captain’s Cottage.

The night sky is glistening with the constellations of summer. Beautiful, glowing flowers are blooming on every bush around them, and Harry can hear the low humming of the Willows ahead of them. As the cool night air swirls around them, Harry notices Draco is beginning to shiver a little. His hands are dug deep in their pockets, and he looks uncomfortable.

“Are you cold?”

“A bit yeah. Didn’t think to bring my cloak,” his voice sounds shaky.

Harry laughs as he pulls out his wand. He summons a jar and spells a small blue flame inside of it.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just knew you would be cold. Sorry, we couldn’t stay inside. I just didn’t want that many open ears.”

“Don’t apologize. I understand completely. Plus, I would much rather be out here than in there. I didn’t want to come tonight, but Jesse thought it was better for me to make an appearance as a gesture of team unity. ‘It’s important that everyone is on the same page,’ according to him. I guess he has a point,” he chuckles at this.

“Wow. He seems really great.”

“The best. But you know, every relationship has its ups and downs.”

Harry doesn’t really know what to say after that. They’re turning down a darker path that begins to illuminate with the light from the jarred flame. Now, fully hidden from the house, Harry feels at ease with himself…and Draco.

“I have no idea why I said that. Odd. Forget all that, what have you been up to?”

“Well, I was an Auror up until a few days ago. I was rubbish at it, and I wasn’t happy with my work anymore.”

“Why weren’t you happy anymore?”

The question is not lost on Harry, but he stops to consider his answer for a moment.

“I knew one day they were going to ask me to be Head Auror, and I couldn’t do that in good conscience when I wasn’t even that great at the job, to begin with. I knew that if I didn’t get out of there when I had the chance, I would be there for the rest of my life, miserable and loathing it until I died.”

“So, just the usual reason then? Avoiding the responsibility of aiding wizarding kind for the rest of your life? I understand.”

“Well, that just sounds selfish when you put it like that.”

“It’s okay if it selfish Harry. It’s you. You died to protect us once. I think you’re allowed to be a bit selfish. Well, what’s the plan then? Now that you’re free from the preconceived notions of your future as Head Auror.”

“No idea.”

They both laugh at this.

“But you’re here with Ginny…but not WITH Ginny, right?”

“Absolutely not. Don’t misunderstand me, I love Ginny, but she’s like family to me. Like Ron and Hermione. Besides, I don’t know if you knew, but I really love men, and she really likes women so it actually doesn’t work out that well.”

Draco chuckles at this.

“You know, I could have sworn I knew something about that… Bet you’re confusing everyone with this whole living together in Portree bit but not actually being together?”

“Of course. Molly already sent me a howler this morning, demanding I don’t muck up her daughter’s feelings again following an article in the Prophet.”

“Oh, the Prophet got a hold of you! That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“They’ve never let me go. It’s like I’m the never-ending barrel of stories for them.”

Harry continues, trying to explain the past few years as quickly as possible. But by the time he's finished recounting some of the more intense cases he’s investigated, spoken about the men he had dated, and his decision to move here with Ginny, a generous amount of time has passed because the moon had risen higher and they were now sitting on a bench quite comfortably.  

“I’m sorry. I’ve been talking the whole time. What have you been up to?”

Draco’s hands are dug so deep into his pockets, Harry isn’t sure he even has them anymore. Draco’s posture has straightened a bit at the question and he’s looking around as he organizes his thoughts.

“Well, after we split, I had to get out of town, broken heart and all that. I tapped every one I knew and got a job with Falmouth. In that first season, I met Jesse at an international tournament in Spain, and we’ve been together ever since. So about four years now? Yeah. I lived with him for this past year in America, but I missed home…and working! So, I took the post with Portree. And here I am.”

“Wow, four years. That’s quite a long time to be with someone.”

“Yeah, well, he’s too good to me and I love him so I figured, why not try and keep this one going, eh?”

It stung a bit.

“Oh, Merlin, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I meant, well, I didn’t have a great record going into it with Jesse, and am glad that it’s not souring because of whatever reason. Shit. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine. Really. Just, a bit true though? I guess there’s nothing wrong with honesty.”

Draco shrank into himself for a moment.

“I am sorry. But he was quite excited when he saw you.”

“Excited?

“Well, maybe not at first. We were both in a bit of a shock. But after that initial feeling, he was quite excited to meet you.”

The tension swung between them.

“Did you tell him about us?”

“Of course. That’s why I wanted him to meet you. So he could see for himself why it was hard to…end things with you. You kind of have that effect on people, ya know? Breath hitching, chest grasping and floating away before realizing you’re in too far. Honesty, remember? It’s a good thing.”

Harry’s cheeks burn at this and he can’t seem to find his eye contact with Draco.

“Blimey Harry, I’m not confessing my love just stating how things usually go when people meet you. You’re quite captivating.”

Harry’s pulse is quickening and he can’t seem to slow it down.

“Plus, he wanted to see if you were taller than him. I do believe he will mention how disappointed he is that you two are the same height. “

They laugh for a long time at this comment. Harry sighs.

“Did you know I was going to be here?”

“Merlin, no, Harry! If I had known, I would have definitely stayed home.”

That one felt like a slap.

“Once again, not what I meant. Harry, I know I did the breaking up, but I was just as hurt as you and it took me a while to really get going again. Right after everything with you, it was all just a distraction. So, while this is great, don’t let me underplay now hard it is to see you now. But I am glad we’re here. This is good.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Draco looks confused and then smiles weakly at Harry.

“Now, let’s see if I’ve got this all figured out: you’ve quit your job as an Auror because you knew eventually you were going to be asked to shoulder the safety of wizards again and you didn’t want that. You’re not with Ginny but you’re also not with anyone else it seems so it’s confusing damn near everyone. But how are you these days? I mean, are you okay?”

Harry exhales and slows his heartbeat down. He’s been preparing this answer for some time now.

“I am now, but after we split and you left, I had to face a lot of things I didn’t want to face. I was really lost for a really long time, and those cracks that were deep within me were only going to worsen had you stayed.”

Harry stops for a moment and tries to catch his heart from jumping out of his chest.

“I knew you knew that I was relying on you to heal those wounds for me. It was unfair to depend on someone to help me with an intense amount of pain when I couldn’t even do it myself. And I wanted to tell you that I was sorry.”

Draco seems to be turning away from Harry but notices that he’s hiding his face because he is crying.

“I put an immense pressure on you, someone who was trying to heal themselves and that wasn’t fair. And guess what? I did mend. I did heal and I wanted to tell you so many times, let you know that you leaving, while it caused a lot of pain, was probably the best decision you could have made. But Merlin, it fucking hurt.”

Draco’s expression made Harry feel heavy again.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to just lay all that out. It’s just, I’ve wanted to tell you for so long how sorry I was. And I’m glad you’re happy. I am so happy that you’ve found someone that deserves you, and I want you to have every happiness because I knew I couldn’t give that to you. But perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to tell you all of this, right when I’ve seen you again after four years, at a work function, in someone’s garden I don’t even know. Timing. Never my best skill.”

Draco bursts into laughter and Harry giggles with him.

“Potter, I am so glad you’re okay with everything that happened. And thank you for saying all that. And I am happy. I’m really happy. I just wish you had found someone too.”

“Yeah, well, still got time, yeah? Or maybe I’ve given up. I don’t know.”

“Rubbish. I won’t allow it.”

“If the right guy comes around then of course, but we can’t all luck out and bag ourselves a dishy American that’s got skin like caramel and the biceps of a god.”

“He does have really great biceps…”

“Yeah, he does! I haven’t even seen them out of the jacket and I know that. Really. Congrats on him. He is…wow.”

Draco laughs at Harry.

“Best be off soon. Jesse leaves tomorrow so we’re trying to squeeze as much time in together as possible.”

They move from the bench, legs stiff from sitting so long, and begin to walk towards the house. The gravel under their feet counts the steps until Harry is no longer with Draco in their bubble of solitude. Harry had forgotten how easy it was to talk to Draco…he shakes his head at the thought and walks into the house after Draco.

The party is still bumping and moving. Harry scans the crowd looking for Ginny. She is dancing with Jesse. Harry laughs at how easy Ginny befriended people. Draco rolls his eyes.

“Doesn’t matter who the man is with, he always makes friends.”

“It’s the same with Ginny. I could never be like that. I’m too…inside myself.”

“I know. It’s why we always got on so well,” Draco lowers his voice a bit at the tail of the sentence. Harry looks at him, and Draco is giving him a look he can’t quite place. Before Harry says anything else, Draco breaks eye contact and moves towards Ginny and Jesse. Harry is about to go after him when Viktor Krum steps into his line of sight, very close and looking a bit irate.

“Harry Potter. I have been looking for you. I was just about to leave when I saw you come in with Draco Malfoy. There is something I have been meaning to ask you.”

Viktor is wearing a deep red suit, a matching tie and blacker than black shirt. He has a well-manicured beard, shoulder length hair that is tied into a dark odd looking braid and is carrying a traveling cloak. He looks older, but age seems to have done nothing but improve his features.

“I’m sorry Viktor, I have been a bit preoccupied, but please, what can I do you for?”

Harry is looking towards Ginny. She’s laughing at Jesse as he pulls Draco in for a hug. He isn’t paying much attention to Viktor.

“Yes, I am sorry your ex is here with another man. You must feel awkward and inadequate at seeing such a beautiful man with Draco Malfoy. “

Harry’s head whips his head to Viktor’s face.

“I’m sorry, was there something you needed,” Harry asks a little frustrated now.

“Yes. The support staff for The Pride is short a few positions. We will be asking Draco Malfoy to help with this as well, but seeing as you are here already and were a well-known flyer in your school days, I was wondering if you would like a job with The Pride as a flying instructor. You would come to practices, matches and represent the team during traveling matches. Do you accept the position?”

“The Pride is offering me a job? Why?”

“Mostly out of convenience. True, you haven’t played in years, yes? But you have natural talent Harry, and I hear you are an excellent teacher. Please, think about it. I will expect an owl by the end of tomorrow. Have a pleasant evening Harry Potter.”

Viktor strides away with an importance Harry couldn’t ignore. A job with Portree? How odd. But he couldn’t deny the lure of working with a professional Quidditch team. He had never given Quidditch much thought as a career.

He only flew around Christmas when he participated in the annual Weasley family Quidditch match. Ginny was no longer allowed to play seeker after three Christmases ago when she and Ron argued over who had won, and as a result, nearly wrecked Christmas.

He’s lost in thought and doesn’t hear Ginny when she bounds over to him, a bit overheated and sweaty from dancing.

“Jesse Zamaripa! Here! In Scotland! He’s one of the best Chasers in the world, and we just had the most amazing conversation about leadership and a Team Captain’s role. He is my new best friend.”

Harry pops an eyebrow at Ginny’s comment. A little envy monster dances around his mind.

“Would you like him to move in with you?”

“Oh Harry! Don’t be jealous. Besides, Draco wouldn’t allow him to move in.”

She giggles and nudges Harry.

“Viktor Krum just spoke to me. “

“I saw. That’s why I came over. What did he want?”

“He offered me a job…”

Ginny tilts her head and looks at him like a child trying to figure out adult things.

“What?”

“Yeah. A flying coach position on the support staff. Apparently, Portree is short and they knew I was coming with you. So, he asked.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I said I would think about it, but he’s not letting me sleep too long. I have to let him know by tomorrow.”

Ginny looks a little unsure.

“Harry, no offense, but you haven’t flown seriously in years.”

“I know! But he says I have natural talent.”

“Well, you do. You’re the best flyer I know outside of the league.”

“Really?”

“Without a doubt. You know what, I think it’s brilliant!”

“Why?”

“You’re a great teacher Harry. You always have been. You’re patient and you know how to teach someone by utilizing their strengths. I think you could be quite good at it. But if you accept, that means we’re flying every day until training starts to get you where you need to be.”

Harry paused and looked at her with a bit of fear. She had her serious voice on now.

“When does training start?”

“Monday after next. We have about nine days to get you fit and flying again. You think you’re ready for this?”

Whatever was blossoming in Harry’s chest is now overflowing. Harry hadn’t felt this hopeful and eager in years.

“I don’t think so, but sod it, let’s go for it.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR MY LOVELIES! I know it's been a hot minute since I posted, but I just wanted you to know that you all haven't been too far from my mind. Currently, I have work and a lot of other projects I'm trying to get going.
> 
> In addition to writing this fanfic, I'm trying to hone my skills on screenwriting and keeping up to date with the industry. It's kind of a good deal of effort so forgive me for going so long between posts. I've just been a bit busy.


	10. Flights of Fancy

Harry looks at the sea in the distance but cannot hear any water. They’re high above the coast, but close enough to smell the sea air. The wind strongly blows against his face, and he feels unfiltered excitement at the prospect of flying.

After sending a response to Viktor that morning, accepting the post he had offered him, Harry and Ginny apparated to a secluded spot she had heard of by way of her teammates. The perfect place to retrain and strengthen. Especially after years of neglect.

He wears some protective gear he found in the cottage after rummaging through the same closet that contained the retired equipment he found the previous day. He had found arm and shin guards and had dug out a pair of more light feeling robes to fly in. Ginny had loaned him a set of old goggles that were a bit tight but was grateful to be outfitted and ready for his day of training.

Ginny, on the other hand, looked a perfect picture of Quidditch training: she wore her brand new training robes and protective gear, courtesy of The Pride. The only thing that seemed a bit worn were her boots. ‘You can’t put a price on foot comfort, Harry,’ she had told him when he asked her about them.

“Okay, Harry,” she stands about five feet from him and holds his broom with one arm, “this is your Firebolt. I cleaned her up a bit last night, and she seems to be doing well, even for being ignored sans once a year for the past ten years, but you must keep her up now that you’re going to be a flying coach. You’re an example for the team now.”

Her head held high, she mounts her broom and then kicks off the ground. Harry mounts his own broom and feels the familiar sensation and pull. As if the broom had missed him over the years. He follows Ginny into the sky and instantly feels better.

Gravity melts from beneath his feet, and he feels more comfortable than he has in weeks. The smell of the morning dew lingers above the ground. He breathes in the ocean even deeper from the distance he now occupies and looks out towards the sea. The view is breathtaking with the familiar blue to white gradient that meets at the horizon far away. He can see the opposite coast from here and smothers the urge to fly all the way there and back.

The broom vibrates slightly as he slows down to hover near Ginny.

“How did you get my broom so quickly? I don’t remember packing it, “ Harry says.

“Well, I had a feeling you were going to need it. So, when you were packing all of the important things into your trunk, I grabbed it and put it near the bottom. You didn’t even notice she was underneath all those books and years old robes.”

“Well, thanks. I’m glad you did.”

She smiles and then moves directly in front of Harry.

“Alright, let’s get a warm-up going. A few laps from this point to the edge of the cliff and then about half a mile west. Like tracing the outline of an invisible pitch. I want you to fly at a reasonable speed. We’re not trying to break records here I just want to see how comfortable you are on a broom.”

“Ginny, this isn’t my first time flying.”

“All the more reason. You are used to flying at a school level and are relatively undisciplined. Well, we’re not in school anymore, and you will need to learn discipline. So, on my mark I want you to do three laps starting from this point, tracing that invisible pitch I was telling you about. After that, we’ll see your speed.”

She sounds a whistle and Harry breaks away at half the speed he normally would be flying. He can tell his body is older and undisciplined right away. The air is hitting him in places that had not ached for a long time, and the cushion charm on his broom is slightly weaker than he remembered. Good thing this was only a warm-up. He loops around Ginny the first time and feels the determination to push through the next two laps.

As he slows to finish his laps, Ginny is smiling at him.

“You look pleased.”

“I am pleased." In her hand sits a small, brassy stopwatch. Along the side are a bunch of extra knobs with fice faces instead of the traditional four.

“What’s that,” Harry asks while stretching his arms.

“This is a Wadditch: a watch that is specifically designed for Quidditch training. It tracks your broom and gives me measurements to help you improve your flying. For instance, do you feel that you really pushed yourself on those laps?”

“A little bit, but is that the most I can push myself? I don’t believe so. Why?”

“According to this, you are already flying at a speed that is twice the average of league players.”

Harry looks at Ginny with a confused face.

“So, that means I’m fast?”

“Harry, you’re incredibly fast. And more importantly, you’re controlled. Your turns are tight, and the way you never went past the edge of the cliff, and you kept a very stable distance between you and the ground. Very few times did you waver in the air. And you’re sure the only times you fly in a year are at the Burrow for Christmas?”

“Yeah. I guess I just didn’t know how I fast I was.”

Ginny laughs while throwing her head back.

“You know, I thought they were just throwing you a post because you’re you, but I can’t believe I never noticed how sodding talented you were. Maybe I didn’t want to see it because deep down I knew you were just the better flyer. Or maybe it’s just your BROOM!”

As she says this she shoves him, almost knocking him off, and then takes off as fast she can it seems. Harry speeds after her and then they’re racing around their invisible pitch. He’s inching near her, almost grabbing her but not quite reaching her when she weaves in and out, using the years of knowledge on evasive maneuvers she’s procured, to escape his grasp. He can feel the air streaming off her body and onto his when he sees a sparkle of gold in the distance.

Ginny is laughing and seems to be toying with Harry when he begins to shout at her.

“Did you bring some balls with you!?”

“No! Why?!”

“I could have sworn I just saw a snitch fly near us!”

“Where?!”

They both begin to slow and once they’ve halted to a hover they both begin to dart their eyes all across their line of sight, taking in full panoramic glances as they search the sky for the snitch.

“You’re just having a go because you were losing that impromptu race, aren’t you?”

“I promise, I saw it glittering over there,” he points down and to his left.

From this height, he can’t make out that there is, in fact, someone down there looking right back at him.

***

Draco is looking up and tries to calm himself. After saying goodbye to Jesse this morning, and then starting immediately on work for the upcoming season, he is feeling anxious and shaky. But now that he’s seeing Harry Potter dart through the sky as if he is a mermaid at sea is causing him to feel that all too familiar schoolboy awe along with even more anxiety.

He has just apparated to this spot, after a recommendation from Madam Ainsbury, to test out the balls and equipment he was going to be in charge of for the season. Draco is ensuring that the equipment had not been tampered with over the summer, that they are in good working order, their charms are holding well, and whether some of them needed replacing. He is especially wary after hearing about the last equipment manager attempting to cheat with the match balls.

He wanted to start with the snitch because it was historically the hardest ball to assess and repair if anything was wrong. The ball’s mechanics and physics were always a challenge due to the fact that the movements it mimicked were that of a living thing originally, and not magicked into being. Flutter rate of the ball’s wings, the pattern in which it flew, and the speed it flew at were just a few of the measurements he needed to extract today. Draco thought it best to get the most difficult ball out of the way.

But as soon as he let the ball loose, he observed two figures racing in the sky and immediately knew that Potter and Weasley were up there.

Why are they out here? And after Ainsbury thought no one would be using this area…Draco draws his wand.

“Accio snitch!” He didn’t mean to bellow the spell but the sound attracts the attention of the flying pair and before he can register what is happening, they are descending towards the ground.

Ginny lands first about ten feet from Draco. As she dismounts her broom, Harry lands, too graceful for a human it seems and dismounts his broom as well. The brooms hover above the ground, free of their riders, and the two begin to walk towards Draco.

“Good morning Draco,” Harry is enthusiastic and this attitude isn’t lost on Ginny as she throws him a look Draco isn’t sure he was meant to see.

“Morning,” he sounds more curt than he intends.

“Have you let a snitch loose,” Ginny asks as she removes her goggles and undoes her hair.

Draco is looking at Harry do the same thing: he removes his goggles, runs his hand through his too messy hair, and Draco smells his shampoo. Unchanged after four years and he feels a flutter in his stomach.

“Er, Yes. At the request of Madam Ainsbury, I am taking full stock of the balls and their capabilities before training starts. This way I can see what we’re working with. If their charms are holding and all that.”

His voice sounds like it’s wavering, but Draco knows his mind is playing tricks on him. He cannot be nervous near Potter. He isn’t nervous around Potter. He shouldn’t be nervous in the presence of Potter…his stomach tightens again.

Harry makes a step towards him.

“Did you have a nice send off with Jesse? I imagine he’s already left?”

Draco is quite stunned at Harry’s off the shoulder mention of Jesse. As if he’s known them as a couple for years, and Jesse is a close friend of his. It’s all so _casual_.

“Uh, yes. We were both quite sad, but it won’t be long until I see him again.”

“Oh! I wonder if you wouldn’t mind, but I would like to pick his brain a little more for captain tips. Would you mind if I stole him away next time he’s in Portree,” Ginny asks with eyes wide and full of excitement.

“Ginny, come on, Draco probably doesn’t want to share him with you,” Harry says with a pleading voice.

“I don’t mind!” The answer is too eager and quick.

“I mean, it’s quite alright. I have to admit, Jesse isn’t a ‘let’s go look at rocks for hours’ type of person, so I’m sure he wouldn’t mind the more active company when he visits next seeing as how Portree is a bit small for him. I’d be happy to send you an owl next time he’s in town.”

Ginny squees a bit and then turns her attention to the trunk full of Quidditch equipment.

“So, you’ve only released the snitch so far, right?”

“Uh, yeah. I wanted to begin my testing with the most finicky ball so I let it go first.”

“Have you gotten it back yet?”

“No. I cast an accio, but I forget how accurate you have to be with those when it comes to the Snitch because of how darty they can be. Not to mention they have extra guards against spell work for match purposes.”

“Would you mind if I..,” Ginny looks hopeful and tilts her head towards Draco.

“Well, go on then. I’m sure I would have been out here for hours so really you’re doing me a favor.”

Before he says anything else, Ginny’s on her broom and kicking off the ground, hard.

Draco’s heartbeat immediately quickens with Potter standing so close to him.

“She’ll be gone for hours now. You’ve released a monster into the skies of Portree. I hope you know you will be held accountable for any damage,” Harry is squinting into the sky as he says this, and then turns to Draco.

“Well, can’t be held one hundred percent accountable. After all, she’s your roommate.”

Harry chuckles and looks at the rest of the balls. Draco swallows a bit to steady himself.

“So, what were you all doing up there when you have a perfectly good pitch to fly on?”

Harry looks at Draco with his piercing green eyes, and Draco tunes out what Harry’s saying for a moment. He’s letting himself get lost a little bit, but cuts himself off before he allows to think too much when he hears…” working for The Pride as well.”

“I’m sorry. I was… What about The Pride?”

“Viktor Krum offered me a post as a flying coach for the team, and I have accepted. So, we are working for the same team now. Pretty cool huh? We thought it would probably be a good idea if I got out here and got to flying a bit that way I don’t make an utter fool of myself before training camps begin.”

Working. Together. As if the anxiety could not be contained. Now, Draco was going to have to make it through this season as a co-worker to his ex. It wasn’t enough that they were already living in the same village, directly connected via Ginny, but now he was going to see Potter nearly every day for the next nine months. Close proximity.

But why was Draco worrying? This was Potter he was thinking about. The same Potter he had left four years prior because he was going down a dangerous route of self-harm. The same Potter that had caused Draco a lifetime’s worth of heartache. The same man Draco had sworn would never get his shit together, and low and behold he had gotten his shit together. Well done for him, but what was it about this whole situation that bothered Draco?

He had the love of a wonderful man, a damn good job, and lived in quite possibly the most beautiful place in the world. It was the first time he was feeling truly happy, even with thousands of miles separating him and Jesse. So why then was he caught up with Potter the way he was?

Harry had gotten over him, and he had gotten over Harry. But every time he looked at him, there always seemed to be this tug at his rib cage. As if there was something missing from his body that Harry had kept in the split. Draco wasn’t sure if he had that strength to endure an entire season at the whims of these emotions.

Should he say something? Clear the air? He wasn’t sure. But he also couldn’t bear to think about spending all this time with Potter…

“Can I ask you something,” Harry’s tone is calm and metered. Measured out before an unpleasant exchange.

“I suppose,” Draco was scared.

“Is this going to make you uncomfortable? Me working here and us having to spend a great deal of time together? Because if it is, I’ll rescind my acceptance and just be support for Ginny. I don’t mind. It’s just, we’ve only just seen each other for the first time in years, and it all seems like a lot for us to be together for a good deal of time. And I know how anxious you can get-“

“It’s fine,” Draco’s words are edged. How dare he presume to know his temperament!

“You’re sure?”

“Listen, Potter, I truly appreciate your offer, but that would be entirely selfish. And while the thought of us working together every day makes me…uneasy, I do not think resorting to something as dramatic as leaving a post is necessary. We’ll deal. We’ll be…work colleagues.”

“Work colleagues?”

“Yes,” there was a smug look to Harry’s face now as if he knew that Draco was flat out lying to him.

Lying had always been easy for him, but this lie felt heavy on his chest. Of course, being around Potter for so many hours a day, every day, weekends, a few holidays, and getting used to his demeanor, his characteristics, his body language and all of that again, would mess with his head a bit, but he felt confident in his ability to just be work colleagues…that just so happened to have been former lovers, who were former enemies in one of the largest magical wars this century. But yes, work colleagues he could do.

“I can do that. Do I call you Mr. Malfoy?”

“If you are addressing my father. You can just call me Malfoy. For old times’ sake.”

“You’ve got it Draco.”

Draco rolls his eyes while Potter giggles. He actually giggled.

“Well, congratulations are in order Potter. I look forward to seeing you mold and shape the flyers of Portree. They are lucky to have you.”

“Thanks, Draco.”

Just as the conversation is coming to an end, Ginny flies towards them clutching a shiny gold orb in her hand.

“This one was in a fiery mood,” she says as she tosses it to Draco.

“They tend to be like that after the summer. That’s why it’s always good to get them out and have them fly around before the season starts.”

As he examines the ball, Ginny clears her throat and looks to Harry. Draco pretends not to notice that things have become awkward and concentrates on the ball.

“Right, yes, well! Must be off then! We have to finish up here, and then we’ve got that thing later, right Ginny?”

“Yes, the thing. After this. Gotta finish up.” They’re moving towards their brooms to mount them. Ginny is gone in an instant, but before he flies off, Harry adjusts his goggles back onto his face. He looks at Draco while smiling.

 “I’m glad to be working alongside someone as talented as you, Draco. Here’s to a fantastic season!”

With this last sentiment, he takes off into the air leaving Draco awestruck for the second time today.

It was going to be a long season.

***

Harry is soaring to catch up to Ginny when she chokes back on the neck of her broom and comes to an abrupt halt. Harry skids in next to hear and looks confused.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to know what you all talked about?” He knew it.

“You left on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Of course, it was odd coming down and seeing him. Thought it would be better to give you two a moment to sort out whatever that was. So, what did you all talk about?”

He recounted the conversation to Ginny’s head nods and occasional ‘Hmm’s.

“So, you’re still into him?”

Harry felt like he had been hit with a garden gnome straight to the chest.

“Pardon?”

“Harry, it just seems a bit odd for someone to take such careful consideration for an ex.”

“Well, it was a professional courtesy…”

“Harry! You don’t immediately ask if you should quit a good job to ease the comfort level of an ex! Professionally speaking, you get over it by not talking about it. Just let it be, but you being Mr.Let-me-tell-you-exactly-what-is-on-my-mind just couldn’t handle being cool, for once?”

Harry shakes his head a bit and feels a little offended.

“What? I thought honesty was the best policy. I thought I was doing him a favor by-“

“He. Left. You, Harry! He was the one who did the breaking up, and hasn’t spoken to you once in the past four years. He was the one that decided to duck out and leave you to heal and possibly rot on your own. He was the one who decided it was the right time to throw in the towel rather than stick around and try to heal, together. What if something had happened? What if you had harmed yourself in some way? Were you just too damaged for Draco Malfoy to stick around? What kind of person leaves another to fester in their own pain and suffering? Were you not whole enough to be deserving of his love, Harry? Does he only deserve you at your best Harry and not at your completely broken?”

Harry can’t believe where Ginny has taken this conversation.

“And most importantly, Harry, he’s the one involved with a gorgeous man, thousands of miles away, seems unabashedly happy, and you’re hollowing out a little bit every day because you don’t think you’re worthy of any kind of affection. Well, sod all that, Harry! He doesn’t deserve honesty and courtesy and favors to spare his feelings! He deserves to be gut punched for being a git.”

Her breathing was a bit labored but it wasn’t without merit.

“How long have you been thinking about all this?”

“Since the party. When you two did your long-awaited lap around the garden, I thought you were coming back together.”

“He’s with someone Gin…” the hole tore at Harry a bit.

“Harry what you two had was the real deal. Not the shite we had, not the whatever fuss me and Luna and had. You had the real thing. But he gave up Harry! He gave up in the second half with only ten points to score, and just as he was going to grip the snitch, he slows down and leaves the goddamn pitch. Why?”

Shoddy Quidditch metaphor aside, Harry knew there was something in her feelings that he had felt long ago. Post-breakup, he found himself in a stage of rage where he blamed Draco for every problem they had, every fight they had, and everything wrong with himself. But as Harry moved on, he thought more and more what it was Draco was dealing with, and while they both weren’t perfect, ultimately the relationship wasn’t working and it needed to end.

“It’s not that I think I’m unworthy of love.”

“Then please explain to me-”

“I don’t have to explain anything!”

Ginny moves back a smidge while looking at him with awe.

“I understand that you want answers for how I feel. But I can’t give them to you. Yeah, it took years to finally heal from the war and that heartbreak. And yeah, it hurts to see him so happy when I’m not, but Ginny…it’s done…”

He stops to look away from her.

“I wish there was a way to convince you that I’m okay with where I am. But there are no guarantees. Some days, I feel nothing but contentment and others, there’s a dark mass weighing on my chest and I have to work very hard to make it to the end of the day. But that’s not Draco’s fault. That’s no one’s fault. That’s just a part of healing. Forever healing.”

She sighs but still seems unhinged, and Harry is beginning to wonder what it is they are really talking about.

“Gin, what’s wrong? And please don’t tell me it’s Draco related because I will knock you off your broom and let you fall to the ground.”

She is sniffling and trying to avoid eye contact.

“She’s seeing someone Harry. We’ve been broken up not even six months AND SHE’S SEEING SOMEONE! How could she? How could she just…move on?!”

The sniffling is crying now and Harry can feel the pain his friend is in.

“When did you find out?”

“Yesterday morning my mum’s reply came back with the news that Luna had started seeing someone she met through work. Some Scamander guy she met while researching some creature or whatever! Apparently, they’ve really hit it off.  She’s worried about you and I might have a go because we’re living together. I told her that I wasn’t like Luna. That I wasn’t interested in men and women but just women. The reply after that was weepy sounding and I have not written her back.”

Harry let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

“I’m sorry Gin.”

“It’s alright. Just feels…final. I had thought for a while that we were probably going to get back together because it just made sense. I love her. She loves me. So, we’ll meet in the middle at some point and get back together. No, Harry. We’re done.”

He wants to say something to help her.

“I’m not feeling up to training after all, and I would really just like to fly around all day and try to forget about all of this.”

Harry pats her shoulder and begins to fly away when a thought pops into his head. He turns towards Ginny because she deserves a friend who can say the things she needs to hear when she’s feeling as sad as she is.

“I know it hurts. I know exactly how it feels to have the world at your feet in the form of someone you thought was forever, but believe it or not, it will fade. The stabbing pain in the pit of your stomach fades to a dull hurt in your chest. Then, one day, you’ll be fine. You’ll want to be with other people and all she’ll be is a fond memory laced with some aching because you’ll be with someone who truly wants you. Over work, over distance, over everything. Don’t put your faith in someone who won’t put their faith in you. They don’t deserve it.”

“Thanks, Harry, but does it work for you? This grandiose advice of the next person and healing?”

He looks down and can still spot Draco on the ground.

“I think so but we’ll see.”

She laughs and cries at the same time.

Harry flies towards the ground and before he lands he’s apparated back to Captain’s Cottage.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me. I know this is the song and dance of a lot of people writing the fic BUT I swear life just gets in the way but also I get in my way. I hope you all are doing well and thanks for coming back and for forgiving me so easily.


	11. Disctractions

Once Harry is inside the house, and undressing from this morning’s brief training, he starts to wonder why he is here in Portree? More than anything, he wants to talk to Hermione and Ron.

He immediately dresses in something more normal and heads downstairs. He’s not looking for Cobble long when he finds her in the drawing room fighting some Dust Bunnies. They’re running around her feet when she spots Harry standing there smiling.

“Harry Potter! Cobble apologizes. How may I assist- GOTCHA!” She has the Bunny in her hand when it pops out leaving a small cloud of cough-inducing waste behind. Cobble is waving away the particles as best she can.

“Cobble, might there be an owl I can use to send a letter?”

“Of course! Let me go and fetch her.”

“Quite alright, I can get her if you don’t mind? You seem a bit…busy at the moment.”

Cobble looks pleading with him. She’s fighting the urge to give into the request.

“That is quite alright Harry Potter. I will fetch her. “

And with a crack, Cobble is gone and the Bunnies run off to places more difficult to retrieve them out of then when Harry walked in. He looks around the room and notices how remarkable it is.

A large curved wall with three windows draped with long white, sheer curtains are occupying the wall directly in front of him. In the corner stands a piano that seems older than anything in the house. In the middle of the room sits a large, round table that contains a miniaturized version of The Pride of Portree’s pitch. It is adorned with stands, grass, and the hoops at either end of the pitch. It’s spectacularly detailed with small witches and wizards sitting in the stands, while tiny, bewitched Quidditch players zoom around. He’s about to touch it when Cobble enters the room with a beautiful owl on her arm.

The Tawny owl is half of Cobble’s height and looks at Harry with a head bob. Her markings look peculiar and her coloring contains alternating shades of purples and golds and not the typical brown and white.

“Harry Potter, this is Skye, the Captain’s Cottage house owl. Skye, this is Harry Potter. He is very nice and will treat you well.” The owl gives Cobble a small nibble on her finger.

“Cobble, why is she purple?”

“Well, Skye, like me, comes from a long line of servitude to The Pride of Portree. Some centuries ago, they bred owls and charmed them to be the team’s colors. I believe they are the only team that has animals the same color as the teams. Sometime in the mid-eighteenth century, the practice was outlawed. But, The Pride’s owls were bred like this for so long, now they are naturally occurring without any help from present-day breeders. One may also notice, she has star-like markings on her wings.”

As Cobble says this, Harry looks at the details. The owl is beautiful, if not slightly out of the ordinary.

“If Harry Potter does not require anything else, Cobble will return to the Dust Bunnies.” She lets the bird hop onto Harry’s arm and resumes her battle on the Bunnies. Harry chuckles and leaves the room.

“Well, Skye, it is lovely to meet you.” She hoots lightly at Harry and fluffs her wings.

They head into the kitchen and once he’s settled Skye onto the window sill, he looks for a quill and parchment. He grabs a set he finds in a drawer, and sits down at the small table he is slowly staking a claim to. He sits for a moment before he begins to write:

_Ron-_

_Need to talk very soon. When is good?_

_Harry._

It was short but Harry didn’t have the patience to properly pen a well-thought letter. Plus, Ron’s letters were notorious to the point and without any sense of occasion, so he didn’t feel too bad about the lack of flair.

The bird clicked its beak at Harry as if she knew he was done and was ready to go. He folds the letter, magically seals it with his wand, and addresses it.

Harry walks over to the owl and places it in her beak.

“My friend Ron will be easy to find, but I don’t think I’ll be seeing you very quickly. So, just take your time.”

She takes off through the window, and Harry still can’t believe that she is purple and gold.

After the letter, he decides he's had enough of the waking world and heads to his room to take a nap. He's thinking of the owl and how much Portree is soaked in history when he fades into sleep.

Hours later, Harry wakes from his nap when Cobble pops into his room to announce dinner. His head swims in thought as he begins to properly wake up.

What in the bloody hell was he thinking taking this job? He had no real idea of what he was doing, but the thought of even working in the same vicinity as Draco…it was awkward as ass.

Without falling too much into his hole of self-doubt, he starts to head downstairs.

When he arrives in the kitchen, he sees Ginny already sitting at the table. She’s in comfortable clothes and sipping a mug of tea. It’s a stark difference from the training clothes and demeanor from their flying session earlier in the day. She looks puffy in the eyes.

She’s probably been crying all afternoon.

“You alright?”

“I suppose. For right now.  I just want training to start already. I’m tired of being just here. I need something to occupy my mind.”

Harry looks at her and has an idea.

“Cobble, you said there was actually a pretty decent pub in town, correct?”

“Yes, Harry Potter. It’s called the Sinking Quaffle.”

Ginny looks at Harry and she lets her shoulders sag.

“No, Harry. I don’t feel like it.”

“That is precisely why we need to go out and get absolutely pissed! Come on. You need a distraction from Luna, and I need a distraction literally from everything. So, come on Gin! Let’s go out!”

She groans.

“There is no use in fighting this, is there?”

“Absolutely none whatsoever.”

She groans again and then nods her head.

“Wonderful! After dinner, we’ll go get dressed and then we’ll head out.”

“Fine.”

Before Harry serves himself, he notices Skye sitting on the window with a letter in her beak.

“Blimey. When did she get back?”

“Apologies Harry Potter. She arrived just as I was serving dinner. I tried to take the letter but she’s rather keen on letting only you retrieve it. I think she likes Harry Potter.”

“Is that bird purple?” Ginny asks through a full mouth. As Cobble starts to explain the uniqueness of the bird, Harry walks over and takes the letter from her.  She nips his finger lovingly as he rips open the letter:

_Git-_

_So, nice to hear from you. Mum is under the impression that you are trying to take advantage of my baby sister. I just think you’re a prat for not writing sooner. This weekend should be fine. But Hermione won’t be here. She has a conference in Paris._

_Ron_

_PS – Why is your bird purple?_

Harry laughs at the letter, folds it and then places it in his pocket. Nothing gets passed these Weasley’s.

After a meal filled with nothing but assorted meat pies, a cake, and the best tasting pumpkin juice Harry has ever had, they head to their respective bedrooms to prepare for a night out.

For someone who was fighting him at first, Ginny emerges from her room, after what feels like hours of preparation, wearing tight, dark green, trousers, a light grey sweater with gold glitter accents and has done her makeup slightly more dramatic than the night of the Welcome Ball. Harry is wearing his best pair of black trousers and a V-neck charcoal sweater.

They exit the house and apparate to a few feet in front of the pub’s entrance. It’s situated in the middle of nowhere at a crossroads of four dirt roads. The small building looks centuries old and has smoke coming out of a chimney near its rear. There are large stones bordering the building, creating a makeshift wall, and it only has one small window showing a green glow from inside. The air around the pub feels electric from the magical wards in place to keep muggles out.

They enter the building and inside it looks exactly what they both need. There are witches and wizards filling nearly all available space. Not one takes a second glance at them as they enter and already Harry is grateful for this crowd. He eyes a small group playing exploding snap in the back of the pub, there are witches chatting up a group of wizards near the entrance, and near the bar, a large group argues and debates over the upcoming season of Quidditch.

They move towards the bar. Once there, Ginny orders a fire whiskey for herself and a lager for Harry. With drinks in hand, they search for an empty table to sit. They find one near the back, close to the group playing exploding snap. Upon closer inspection, he notices there are some sickles on the table. Harry laughs and starts to sip his drink, but as he does this he sees someone looking at him from the bar.

Other than being attractive, he seems familiar but Harry can’t seem to place where he’s seen him.

“What are you looking at?” Ginny asks. Harry points his chain in the direction of the bloke. Ginny turns towards to look at what, or rather whom, he’s staring at it and makes a whistling noise.

“Nice one. Good face, nice body, but not for you.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one, he is one of my chasers and second you’re a soon to be employee for The Pride so maybe don’t try and endanger your job before you even start it by shagging a team member, ya?”

“Damn.” Harry breaks eye contact and takes a huge swig of his pint. He takes in more of the environment: he notes the exits, a habit he gained thanks to his Auror training, counts exactly how many other people seem very familiar, and then takes another good swig of his drink. Before he puts the glass down again, the attractive stranger is standing next to the table.

“Captain Weasley?”

“Good to see you Cinead.”

“I thought I recognized you and your date here.”

That’s why he looks familiar. He was one of the well-wishers he shook hands with at the Welcome Ball.

“Not really my date. Just a friend. Cinead Miles, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Cinead. He’s a first team chaser.”

Cinead engulfs Harry’s hand with his and shakes it almost too firmly.

“Nice to meet ya, Harry.”

“Pleasure’s mine Cinead.” He smiles back and blushes slightly at Harry.

“Harry here just got hired by The Pride to be a flying coach. Isn’t that interesting Cinead?”

He looks at Ginny and frowns.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, sir! Couldn’t more proud of him!”

She throws an arm around him as she takes another swig of whiskey.

“Well, then we most certainly need to get to know one another! It seems we’ll be seeing a lot of each other over these next few months.” He crosses his arms and leans into the table. Harry feels a tug in his belly and tries to reign in his desire, but it pools inside him as he continues to look at Cinead. The time since his last sexual encounter and now starts to make his head hurt and unfortunately, his body is in agreement: Harry needs a damn good shag.

“I need another drink.” Ginny gets up from her spot and makes for the bar.

“If you’re interested, Spike and a few of the reserve team are sitting in that corner over there.” Cinead points Ginny in the right direction without taking his eyes off Harry.

Ginny looks in the direction he’s pointing in. She looks between Harry and him and grumbles something that sounds like ‘don’t blame me’ and walks back towards the bar.

Cinead takes her seat and takes a swig of his pint. Harry looks around and can’t seem to find any words. After the past few days he’s had, he feels like a good shag is in order, but there is the small detail of not wanting to be fired right after he’s obtained a job. A small bit of doubt leaks into him, but before it can do much damage, Harry washes it down with the rest of his pint. Harry’s “fuck it” attitude wins again.

“Would you like another,” Cinead asks.

“Er yeah. Thanks.”

While Cinead makes for the bar, Harry watches him leave and begins to take in the more attractive qualities: the man is so damn tall, he ducks to avoid the beams in the pub, which is saying something because Harry is not a short person. His physique is more in line with that of a beater than a chaser: he’s broad and built thick versus lithe and lean. Harry isn’t complaining. He has dark curly hair that is cut short but still bounces with his movements and has a beard that is full and well maintained. Not to mention, he has the most intense topaz blue eyes. In short, Cinead is beautiful.

“Hello?”

Cinead has most certainly asked a question Harry has missed upon returning from the bar.

“Pardon?”

“So, are you excited to be with Portree?”

“Yeah,” thank Merlin they were talking now, “I’ve never worked for a Quidditch team before so I’m intrigued. But we’ll see how it goes. You’re on first team, then?”

“Yes. I’ve been here for three years. I love it. We’re a pretty tight group. I mean, every team is, but I dunno, Portree feels different. What did you do before you got this job?”

“Well, I just left the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

“An Auror! Wow, that’s brilliant. Why’d ya leave?”

Harry squirms a bit but opts to tell him a version of the truth. What follows is a genuinely enjoyable conversation. He finds out that Cinead left an Irish team’s reserves for a first team spot at Portree, he loves to vacation in Portugal, and he is half muggle. They instantly bond over this last bit of information and talk about the relationship between muggles and wizards. Before long they’re laughing at the weird things they had missed about muggle life (non-magical cars, television, and video games), and speculating about the season to come.

Before Harry knows it, the pub is half empty. He looks at his watch, and can’t believe how long they’ve been sitting there.

“Oh, blimey, it is rather late.”

“Looks like it is. So, are you off then?” Cinead asks with a rather intense look. Harry immediately feels the shift in his voice because it is directly correlated to the shift in his cock.

“Don’t know. Would you think it wrong if we spent a night together with the full knowledge that we could both face-“

Cinead kisses Harry before the sentence is finished. After a few seconds of delightfully sloppy kissing, he pulls away. 

“Well, I am just going to pretend that you are some bloke I met, and you’re going to pretend the same. And we’ll just see where it takes us, yeah?” Harry looks at him and this time he goes in for a kiss that is slightly more aggressive than the previous. Cinead reacts joyfully by slipping his large hand around Harry’s neck.

“So, my place or yours?” Cinead is talking so low now he’s almost purring.

“Well, seeing as how I share a place with Ginny, it would probably be wise to go to yours.”

Cinead leaves to pay the tab, and while he’s away Ginny slips back into her chair.

“So, we’re just throwing caution to the wind now?”

Harry sighs.

“Don’t over analyze. This is sex. I’m allowed to have sex and then wallow in self-pity and shame tomorrow and return to my constant questioning of every major life decision I have ever made.”

“Alright. Well, as a friend, have fun and be safe, but as _the_ Captain of the The Pride of Portree I could not disagree more with this decision.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

As they finish talking, Cinead approaches the table.

“Ready to go then?”

“Absolutely!”

Harry leaves his seat, and Cinead takes his hand. Even this gesture is light and wonderful.

“Captain!” Cinead says with a salute and mocking tone.

“Yeah alright, don’t rub in how terrible this decision is!” Ginny yells at them as he and Cinead leave the bar.

Cinead apparates to a small house with an ironwork fence bordering it. A warm light emanates from the few windows Harry sees, and there is a small garden facing them. The moon is out and shows the coast just down the hill. It’s beautiful, quiet and more importantly, away from Ginny.

“This is quite nice. Are we still in Portree?”

“No. Afraid not. Portree, while great, is still a bit small, so a good amount of the team lives all over the Isle of Skye. Only Ginny and Lady Ainsbury live in Portree. And I think that new equipment manager actually bought a house there, which is rare for new team staff. Even Viktor is commuting from Inverness. I think Portree is too small for him.”

Of course…

He _bought_ a house in Portree.

Cinead leads Harry through the short gate and takes him inside his cottage. It’s small but open feeling. For as small as the actual house is, the ceilings are higher than Cinead is tall, so the need to avoid beams is almost unnecessary. Cinead brings Harry into the drawing room and then heads into his kitchen.

“Would you care for anything to drink?”

“Sure.”

There is a large square window that looks out towards a small bay. It’s a beautiful view that is most likely breathtaking any time of day.

Cinead returns with a Fire Whiskey in both hands. He takes a seat next to Harry and hands him a glass.

“Cheers.” The glasses clink and they both take a good swig. They place them on a table directly in front of them and they sit there for a moment letting the silence encompass most of the space.

Harry moves a piece of hair from Cinead’s forehead while taking stock of all the freckles on his rosy cheeks. As Harry begins to withdraw his hand, Cinead grabs it and kisses his palm with a soft smack. Harry feels the low heat turn to a delightful burn in his abdomen.

Cinead continues to kiss his hand and his wrist when he cups Harry’s face.

“Harry, you are gorgeous.”

Harry feels his cheeks go hot and looks away from him. Cinead softly takes his chin, tilts it up and kisses him. The kiss is less domineering than the one at the pub. There is a gentle force to him now, and Harry knows that this is exactly what he needs.

He wraps his arms around Cinead and takes him in his, while swiftly moving Harry onto his lap bringing him to a straddling position. He’s moving his hands all over Harry’s back as the snogging intensifies. Harry is moving his hands through his hair, feeling the soft curls all through his fingers. He smells slightly sweet and musky.

Cinead continues kissing him, starting to move down his jawline and then onto his neck. He’s pulling Harry’s sweater to the side, gaining better access to his neck, when Harry pulls away, yanking it swiftly off his body.

Cinead then gazes at Harry with an appetite Harry has not been witness to in some time. Cinead then begins to move his hands all over his chest, tracing the muscles, lines, and dips that have formed all over him. Harry closes his eyes and just enjoys the contact he’s been craving. As Cinead drags his nails down his chest, Harry’s breath hitches, and then Cinead slowly sucks on one of Harry’s nipples. He groans softly in enjoyment.

Harry grinds on him and feels the familiar bulge beginning to engorge below him. He pushes down and Cinead groans throwing his head back, giving Harry the chance to begin kissing his neck. He’s licking and dragging his mouth all over, moving to his jawline and then grabs his earlobes via mouth causing Cinead to lick his lips in anticipation. As Harry moves away, Cinead grabs him by the neck and begins to kiss him again.

As he starts this Harry moves for Cinead’s shirt and pulls off the jumper he’s wearing, pulls on the second shirt underneath, and then looks at his body just as appreciatively as Cinead had done to his.

He’s sparsely hairy and is flushed with a pink color all over, highlighting the fact that he’s aroused and ready for Harry. He is rather firm in all the places he expects but is softer than he would have imagined. Harry likes this bit of him and starts to touch him all over. Gently grabbing him by the arms, where there is no softness and Harry is met with some damned good muscle. Before Harry is finished fully appreciating Cinead’s musculature, Cinead grabs his wrists and pulls his hands behind his back and begins kissing him with intensity.

Harry likes this bound feeling. The feeling of giving in to someone momentarily. He begins to harden even more when Cinead releases him and places his hand on the mound growing in his pants.

Their breathing is labored, and Harry is starting to ache with anticipation. Cinead is pawing at his cock through his pants and finally, Harry pushes his hands away. Cinead looks surprised, but then Harry moves off him, gets on his knees and begins to undo his trousers.

Cinead's hands are hanging in the air, palms out, as he looks at Harry on his knees. Harry is unzipping the trousers, when Cinead aids him by pushing them down his legs as Harry pulls taking the pants with him, springing free the marvelous cock Cinead is in possession of.

Harry pumps the beauty a few times. Pre-ejaculate begins to pool a little as the head rises from the foreskin. He’s about to bring the cock to his mouth, when Cinead catches his chin, tilts it up and kisses him. Harry smiles and then pulls Cinead into his mouth.

The man moans and wiggles a bit as Harry moves is mouth up and down. He likes the feel of a cock in his mouth, perfectly engineered to fit inside as if designed with a mouth in mind. He can taste the pre-cum, enjoys it, and begins to massage Cinead’s balls. He gives the head a breather when he moves to give his underside proper attention, lapping at them the way he thinks he will enjoy. He’s properly moistened the area with his mouth, and Cinead’s groin is slick from all the attention Harry is giving him. He is groaning and whimpering, so Harry assumes this is doing something for him.

As he returns his mouth to the head, Harry feels Cinead’s hand on the back of his head. Opening his throat for Cinead to enjoy, he situates both of his hands on the back of Harry's head, and Harry prepares to accept the intensity of the next moments: Cinead begins to fuck Harry’s mouth.

He's beginning to hammer Harry’s head, properly fucking the sounds out of his mouth. Harry likes seeing Cinead’s pleasure moving across his face. He’s closing his eyes, throwing his head back, and taking sharp breaths to indicate the intensity he’s feeling. With one last pump, Cinead stills and pulls out of Harry’s mouth. He didn’t cum, but Harry is pleased with how much Cinead is enjoying his mouth.

Cinead pulls Harry up on the couch and kisses him a lot more aggressively than he has all evening. He kisses his neck, he bites his shoulder softly, and Harry is grabbing at his back and arms. As Cinead does this, Harry wants his pants off to feel the skin on skin. Cinead is thinking the same thing when he makes a move to remove the pesky things.

He lays Harry down on the couch and begins to pull the pants off him. He’s fumbling with the zipper, but with some aid, they’re off. Cinead looks at Harry’s cock and stops.

“Whoa. That is…wow.”

“Thanks.”

Harry sits up a bit to kiss Cinead, when he pushes him back to start sucking Harry off. Harry inhales a sharp breath and grabs the back of his head. It’s more than Harry can really handle, but as he’s trying to push away the need to cum, Cinead releases him. He looks at him with a surprised look, when Cinead gets off him and pulls him up.

He leads Harry down the hall he passed on the way into the drawing room and then opens a door revealing his bedroom. He pushes Harry down onto the bed and then retrieves something from his bedside table. He comes back with a small vial with a blue liquid inside. He tosses it at Harry and then moves onto the bed with him, laying on his side.

“That is for you to use on me. Is that alright?”

Harry flashes a brilliant smile, “Of course.” He kisses Cinead deep and slow. When he pulls away they’re repositioning themselves.

Cinead gets on all fours as Harry pumps himself just a bit before grabbing hold of his hips to position him closer to him. He pours some of the blue liquid into his hand and then looks to where he’ll be spreading it.

Cinead’s chest merely compliments his magnificent backside: his back muscles ripple as he moves to reposition himself. His arse is well sculpted and slightly bruised, something that either comes with being a professional Quidditch player or is a hint to some other recent activity.

He can’t help but feel a little lucky at this marvelous ass in front of him.

He’s rubbing his hands together to warm the lube before he places it on his cock and Cinead’s hole. Before he goes any further though, he finds it and begins to massage it gently with his mouth. Tasting Cinead and feeling absolutely wonderful at making him moan and squirm. He lets out a long moan, and then lifts his head up before he gets lost in kissing him.

Harry gently massages it with his fingers this time and slips two fingers in automatically. When Cinead inhales and moans a deep ‘fuck’ Harry believes he was correct in assuming that he’s been having some fun lately. He begins to fuck him with his fingers, and when a few minutes have passed, he slips in a third finger much to the pleasure of Cinead.

Cinead is rocking his body onto Harry’s hand by now, and he decides it’s time to properly fuck this beautiful man.

Up until this point, Harry has been on his knees. He repositions himself by pulling Cinead just a little closer, and then pulls one of his legs up to put his foot down on the bed. He gently tugs at his own cock and lubes himself up.

“You ready?” Harry asks as he swirling the lube all over his cock.

“Oh, Merlin, yes.”

With that, Harry begins to ease into him, slowly feeling all of the muscles of his opening. Cinead stills for a moment and then relaxes around Harry. He moans loudly as Harry watches him go for his own hardness. Harry begins to slowly pump into him as he finds the right angle that will bring both of them what they want. He’s holding him by his hips and moving his body onto his cock and when he finally finds the best spot for both of them, Cinead buckles under the pleasure, and is face down on the bed, touching himself as Harry fucks him.

The pace is steady at first, but once Cinead buckles from under Harry, he begins to up the speed. He’s going faster now, listening to Cinead draw sharp breaths and curse as Harry begins to ride him harder and harder. Harry stops for a moment, letting Cinead fuck his cock by moving his body to and fro. Harry loves this angle of men: arse up, back straight and watching the rippling muscles at work. He massages Cinead’s cheeks and then goes for his cock that’s gently rocking back and forth as Cinead moves on and off of Harry’s cock. He begins to massage his balls, using some of the leftover lube. It proves to be very useful at making Cinead even harder, but as he feels Cinead’s body respond to the sensation, Harry pulls his hand away to begin moving into him once more.

He grabs Cinead’s hips roughly and then starts to really give him what he wants to give him. Cinead begins to moan louder and louder. Harry can feel himself getting ready to empty inside of him, and just when his body tightens, Cinead pulls off of him, and then turns around to receive everything Harry has to give.

This surprises the shit out of Harry. He’s coming on Cinead’s face, and as he finishes, Cinead is tugging at his own erection to finish himself straight onto the bed. The orgasm is intense and Harry cannot stop smiling like a maniac

Cinead looks up at him, cum splattered all over his face, when Harry goes to look for a washcloth. He finds one near his bed, and wipes his face, trying to avoid his eyes and hair. Harry grabs his wand and spells the cum off the rag and the bed. Cinead does the same thing with the lube, and before long they’re cleaned up and snuggling in bed. While the residues have all but gone, the smell remains and Harry can’t help but feel a little dirty when he thinks he likes the smell of after sex.

Cinead is the little spoon as Harry reaches over his body and begins to smell his hair.

“Did you enjoy that?” Cinead asks as he kisses Harry’s hand.

“Why, yes that was quite enjoyable.” The sleep is already braiding itself into Harry’s voice.

“Good. Just want to make sure you had a good time. “

“You are quite lovely Cinead.” He can hear him smile at this compliment.

As he hears Cinead’s breathing even out, Harry relaxes completely and falls asleep. 

He dreams he’s in a cloud made of nothing but Golden Snitches. They’re whirring all around him, dodging in and out of his line of sight. He’s on a broom and trying to catch a black snitch in the distance. Right as he’s about to close his hands around the ball, his broom disappears, and he begins to fall through the air. The snitches are moving out of his way as he falls, and as he nears the ground he’s anticipating the pain it will cause, he squeezes his eyes close, and then BAM.

He’s fallen off the bed.

His hand smacked the nightstand on the way down and now his shoulder hurts aches. He’ll be bruised tomorrow, and Ginny will assume it was the sex, but then he’ll have to admit to her that he actually fell off of the damn bed. Humiliating.

He hasn’t woken up Cinead in this embarrassing moment and moves to get back onto the bed.

Why does he keep having all of these flying dreams where he’s in these clouds? It doesn’t make much sense and he’s trying to understand it when Draco slips into his head. He’s trying to shake the thoughts of him loose, but nothing helps.

Cinead is fast asleep. Harry lays there for what feels like an eternity when he decides to just leave. He hasn’t left like this is in years and feels like a git for doing it but for fear of just lying next to Cinead all night and not getting any sleep, he chooses the option to go back home.

He gets out of the bed slowly and moves across the room when Cinead stirs. He mutters something and then turns over. Harry lets out the breath he’s holding and then exits in the direction of the drawing room.

He finds his clothes and begins to dress. He’s putting on his last shoe when he thinks of what to do about Cinead. While one part of him feels fine about leaving without a word, another is hung up on the fact that he is going to see him in a few days’ time; this reasoning prompts Harry to leave a note. He finds a quill and parchment sitting on the kitchen counter and writes out a quick note to Cinead:

_Thank you for a lovely time. You’re wonderful._

_Be seeing you around._

_Harry_

It’s simple yet decisive. Harry hopes it’s clear enough and leaves it on the counter to be found in the morning. He glances towards the window and looks out to catch the view.

The coast that sits close to Cinead’s house is a deep blue-black color. Harry can see the lazy ripples of the water as they move across the horizon. He wishes he could stay.

He wishes he could fall in love with Cinead.

He wishes he could be with someone like him forever.

But there’s not a thing he can do about that.

As he fights those images, he moves towards the front door and leaves all possibilities with Cinead behind.

 

 


	12. Back to London

The next week blurs together with Harry being beaten within an inch of his life via his friend and enemy, Ginny.

She has him drilling all day, every day attempting to get his stamina up before the start of camp. While it’s impossible to do any solid changes with it only being a week away, Harry can feel a shift in his body. The achiness he felt in his arms and back have all but dissipated by the end of the week. He’s flying faster than he ever thought possible and with Ginny’s help, he’s shaved time off his fastest time every day since they’ve started. He’s had to redo the cushion spell on his broom but other than that, his Firebolt is as good as it was ten years ago.

On the final morning of his training, Ginny is marking how many laps he’s done at his top speed and is delighted when she announces he is now twelve seconds faster than when he started and this is cause for a celebration.

“Let’s go have a drink! Come on! Maybe there’s another unsuspecting quidditch player you’ll want to shag.”

They’re hovering high off the ground, and Harry laughs as the wind whirls around them.

“You make it sound like he was a wounded animal, and I gobbled him up like I’m a predator or something.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Shut up. Anyways, I can’t. I’m leaving for London tonight. Remember I’m going to see your idiot brother.”

“Which one?”

“My best friend.”

“Ah yes, while the wife’s away, the boys will play. Perhaps you’ll take him to one of those muggle clubs where they take off all their clothes.”

Harry laughs at this thought.

“Why would we go to a strip club?”

“I don’t what you blokes do when you’re not around women.”

“Well, seeing as how Ron and I have differing tastes in what makes someone attractive, I think we’ll just get pissed at a pub. Sans dancers and their coy clothing removal.”

Once they have gathered themselves together, after another colorful imagining of Ron turning bright red at a strip club, they make a landing and apparate back to the Cottage.

“Well, I’m going to the pub to meet with the team. Sort of a final hurrah before the season starts. You sure you don’t want to come? “

“Thanks, but I think I’ll avoid Cinead a little longer.”

“Are you sure? He seemed quite keen on you after your night of passionate fuckery.”

“He was very nice but not for me.”

She sighs and lets the subject go.

A few moments later, he is leaving the cottage and finds, about ten yards in front of the front door, a tattered toy lorry car. He looks at his watch and notes that he has approximately twenty seconds to grab the toy before it leaves him behind. He bends down to grab it, and as soon as he does, he feels the yank behind his bellybutton and he’s traveling.

He would apparate to London, but every time he apparates over water, he gets sick and is tired for days afterward. Apparating over water, a skill that was supposed to be magically impossible, was something Hermione had dubbed, “Harry Magic.” He had no knowledge of how these things worked, they just did.

Once he lands in London, in an alley not too far from Ron and Hermione’s, he looks around and tries to figure out where he is exactly in relation to his friends’ house: the corner is busy because he’s in the heart of a pub and club district. There are people everywhere, and Harry kind of misses that part of London; the bustling of so many people from so many backgrounds and not knowing who you’re going to meet.

As he looks for the name of the road, he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns to see Ron grinning. He pulls him in for a hug while they both smile like idiots.

“Get a hold of yourself mate! It’s only been a couple of weeks,” Ron says as Harry pulls away chuckling.

“Says the man who called me a git for not writing like you’re my bloody mum!”

In a high-pitched voice, Ron says, “Harry dear how am I supposed to know if you’ve been eating well!”

They laugh like fools and begin walking.

“So, Hermione is working in Paris this weekend?”

Harry notices Ron tense for a second. He doesn’t know if it’s because of his Auror training or if it’s his extensive knowledge of Ron that allows him to notice this.

“Yeah. She’s on as a consultant for a different department. She had a little bit of time, so they grabbed her up and took her to Paris. I think it may be with the International Wizarding Relations people but I’m not sure.”

“Well, that’s good I suppose. That’s good, right?”

“Yeah. It’s great.”

The clipped tone told Harry he should ask about it more but he feels it is not the right time.

“Where do you want to do dinner? I’m starving,” Ron says while stretching.

“What about Italian? I haven’t had Mario’s in a dragon’s age.”

“That is perfect. Exactly what I wanted.”

They’ve reached the house by now and Ron opens the door for Harry.

It feels like it’s been years since he last visited. Harry is nothing but thankful for the familiarity of Ron and Hermione’s house. It was the perfect mix of old meets new.

Its openness is due to the high ceilings and long drawn curtains, but some of the instruments that litter the largest reception room are reminiscent of ancient and powerful magic.

The long entrance hallway passes the guest bedroom where Harry often stays and leads all the way into a fully equipped yet seldom used kitchen. Next to the kitchen is a table where the trio had shared many meals, and passed the small dining area is the stairs leading up to the upper levels. The top level is one large room with a glass ceiling that allows them to view the night sky as if there were no lights in London.

Before Harry drops his bags in his room, he looks around for the usual pile of Hermione’s papers on the kitchen counter; they’re not there. He chocks it up to her being in Paris and tries not to give it another thought.

They apparate from the house and stop directly in front of Mario’s.

The restaurant sits on a quiet street in a predominantly magical neighborhood of London. The building is black from the outside and has MARIO’S written in sweeping and looping gold letters. They can hear loud talking from the outside as they make for the door.

Once opened they are politely attacked by a familiar face.

“Harry! Ronald!”

The manager moves towards them and shakes their hands.

“So lovely to see both of you! No Hermione tonight?”

Ron goes a little rigid. “Afraid not Anthony. She is away on business this weekend.”

“That’s too bad! No matter! We’ll have your table ready momentarily.”

“We don’t need the usual table, Anthony. Any table would suffice,” Harry pleads briefly with the man.

“Mr. Potter, we have this discussion every time. Please, let me get the table ready. We are honored that you dine here.”

Harry blushes but doesn’t say anything else. A few minutes pass and then Anthony shows them to the best table in the restaurant: it’s a quiet table in the farthest corner where they have as much privacy as they require. The corner is a little darker than the rest of the restaurant and causes other guests to look over briefly at the table with whispers.

They are used to these whispers but considering the Prophet article, Harry is taking no chances. He casts a mild muffliato charm towards the patrons nearest them to add an extra layer of protection.

“Good idea. Don’t really feel like being the subject of conversation today,” Ron says consulting a menu.

After ordering, what felt like half the menu, eating nearly all of it, and consuming a few pints of lager to wash everything down, Harry and Ron exit the restaurant feeling quite wonderful.

“Where do you want to go next?” Ron asks sounding happier than he had the whole dinner.

“The Centaur!”

“You’re so predictable. Alright.” Ron grabs hold of his shoulder and they apparate to the entrance of the Stargazing Centaur. As they land, Harry shakes off Ron’s hand.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean?”

“I’m not predictable!”

“Yes, you are. There’s nothing wrong with that, mate. I was just saying.”

“I am not predictable. I’m comfortable…” Harry trails off. It bothers him knowing that Ron thinks he is lame.

As they walk into the bar, his mood melts into a state of confusion and self-doubt. Why would a comment on his predictability make him so crazy?

They order a couple more pints and sit at their usual corner booth. While they knock back the fourth round of drinks this evening, Harry muses more on Ron’s comment, but before he can get really lost into an analytical cloud, Harry sighs.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asks as if he’s annoyed.

“What? Nothing.”

“No. You’ve got that face on. That deep, about-to-waste-a-million-years-thinking-on-something-that-you-can-just-sort-out-now-if-we-talk-it-through, face. You made the same look when you were on cases. So, go on then. Let’s have it.”

“Am I really that predictable?”

“Merlin’s tit! Really Harry? That’s what you’re thinking about? It was just a throwaway comment. Nothing to think about, mate.”

“Maybe to you it is.”

“Look, it’s just you keep habits, you stick to things you know, and while you took some chances in the past, you definitely haven’t lately. Except for quitting your job. That was bloody unpredictable, but I look at that as an outlier.”

Harry is going to blame his sudden rise in anger on the drinks he’s ingested but nonetheless tries to keep it just below the surface. He doesn’t want to catapult his evening in London with his best mate just because he’s taking a comment the wrong way.

“I am not.”

“Fine. You’re not.”

“You don’t believe me though?”

“Not for a second mate.”

“Need me to prove it?” 

“No. Harry, really, just take a moment.”

“I slept with someone last weekend. Just fucked him and it was awesome. And unpredictable, and fun and probably a terrible decision but it was cool.”

“Really? And was this gentleman broad?”

Harry shakes his head a moment to try and align his thoughts. What was Ron getting at?

“What do you mean?”

“Was he big bloke? Not just tall but kind of thick?”

“Yes. What does that-“

“Did he have a beard?”

“What? Yeah. So?”

“And you slept with him at his house, left before he woke, and seeing as how Portree’s a small town you didn’t want to seem like a total arse so you left a note, otherwise you were going to leave without a word, right?”

Harry gawks at Ron and refuses to believe that his friend knows him this well.

“Where’s Hermione, Ron?”

Ron visibly tenses and his fun demeanor immediately switches to a serious one.

“She’s in Paris mate, I told ya.” He sips his lager and looks anywhere but Harry’s eyes.

“Really? Because every time I’ve mentioned her your whole body has tensed, and you refuse to speak about her any further.”

Ron looks at and fiddles with his hand on the table before he makes eye contact again. He looks lost.

“She’s in Paris, but she’s with her parents. Taking some time…away from me.”

Harry thinks of everything he should ask at once, but his slightly drunken thoughts are like escaping balloons just floating farther from his reach. Ron begins to speak without too much effort from Harry.

“This isn’t anything really big. She said she just needed a second to be away from the city, work and me to think about some things. It’s fine. Really. I just didn’t mention it because I know there’s stuff probably going on with you which is why you came and saw me and just didn’t write me or ask to have a Fire talk.”

“You’re sure it’s fine? You don’t want to talk about it?”

“No. Really, Harry. She told me it was just something she was thinking about and finally did it because it seemed like a good time. She’ll be back by Monday and we’re going to sort it out. Plus, we have tickets to The Pride’s exhibition match against Kyoto in Glasgow. It would be a shame to not go if we’re getting divorced.”

“We’re playing Kyoto?”

“We? On the team now are you?” Ron’s laughs into his drink as he takes his sip and then notices Harry’s gone silent on the matter.

“You’re not on the team, right?”

“Not _on_ the team no, but _with_ the team, yes. They offered me a post as a Flying Coach.”

Ron begins to laugh his head off. Harry is not amused.

“You?! But, you haven’t flown in years, Harry. Well not seriously! What were they thinking?” He continues to roll with laughter as Harry grins slightly.

“My thoughts exactly, but Ginny and I have been training all week and I’m faster than the league average. Plus, if Viktor didn’t think I could do it-“

“Hang on.” Ron’s laughter ceases and he gets a very serious look on his face. “Viktor…Krum? Like _the_ Viktor Krum?”

“Oh, that got your attention, did it? You’re such a knob.”

“He’s, what, your boss? Talk about an upgrade.”

“I don’t know what he’s like as a boss, but he seemed pretty hardened at the Welcome Ball. He seems like he’ll be kind of tough.”

“And Ginny didn’t know about any of this I take it?”

“No, but she’s going with it.”

Ron continues with a barrage of questions; some Harry knows the answers to and some he doesn’t know the answers to.

“What do you mean you don’t know what it pays?”

“Never thought to ask. I imagine it’ll pay well but not as good as an Auror job…?”

“Oh, Harry. It’ll probably a lot more than an Auror job. Remember mate, it’s a great job to have but it’s still in the government.”

They laugh a bit more about Aurors, what’s everyone up to in the department and even talks about the case he’s working on at the moment. It’s nice to talk about normal things. The stuff with Hermione will most likely sort itself out, and Harry has confidence in that.

After a few more rounds of drinks and spotting some familiar faces, Ron and Harry are heading home down a dark London street.

“Anything else to report? Have you got a boyfriend?”

“No. Just the one off with that bloke.”

“You haven’t done that in a while. Why all of a sudden?”

And Harry remembers why he has been avoiding the subject all night. Why he was perfectly comfortable not saying anything about this guy because it led back to some very rough subject matter.

“No reason. Just wanted to, you know…get one off.” The answer felt and sounded just as uncomfortable and abnormal as it could have. Harry was the antithesis of smooth.

“Um, not really but I can see it. But you’re not normally one of those guys.”

Harry sighs and stops walking. He needs a moment to collect himself and can’t do things like this all at once; especially after who knows how many rounds of drinks.

“Draco works for The Pride.”

Ron’s jaw drops and he is stunned to the spot as if Harry had jinxed him.

Several moments pass and Ron is still not talking. At some point, it almost seems as if he hasn’t taken a breath.

“Ron. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“But it’s Draco!”

Harry shakes his head.

“Right, but why are you so…stunned?”

“I need a damned drink.” Ron grabs Harry and he apparates directly inside his house. Ron is removing his coat while he walks towards his kitchen in a huff. Harry tries to keep up but fails. He ends up just trailing behind him as Ron stalks towards the kitchen. Ron crosses the kitchen in two steps, and while Harry’s thinking about this bizarre turn of events, Ron grabs a bottle of Fire Whisky and two glasses. He roughly pulls the top off and pours a finger for Harry and what looks like three for himself.

“Ron, you seem to be taking this rather hard. Which is odd because it’s not even your ex you have to work with. So, mind shedding some light as to why you’re acting like a nutter?”

Ron takes a long swig of his drink and looks at Harry like he’s going to cry.

“Harry, you’re my best friend in the world. I would do a lot for you, but mate, I can’t see you wither away again. You’re too good for that. And Draco Malfoy can fuck the right off because he broke you, Harry. When he left, it doesn’t matter how much you tell me that it needed to happen or that it was mutual, you lost something when he left and I’m not sure if you ever got it back. So, while I can see that I am being a bit of a showman right now, I just want to tell you it’s because I care and I don’t want to see you hurt again. I won’t let you go through that again Harry.”

Ron knocks back the rest of his drink and he pants a little while Harry tries to figure out what exactly to say to his friend. He looks at Ron and while he is mildly taken aback, Harry loves his friends and understands his reasoning.

“Ron. First, thanks for that endearing declaration of love. I feel the same.”

Ron looks at him nervously as he pours himself another drink.

“Second, don’t worry about Draco and me. There’s nothing there. We talked about it, us working together, and we’re going to keep it professional. It’s weird, definitely, but we’re trying to navigate this as best we can. You don’t have anything to worry about. You have my word.”

Ron gives him a look of disbelief.

“You talked about it?”

“Yes. We talked about it.” Now that the words were out of Harry’s mouth, it did seem a bit odd that he had spoken to Draco about it.

“Why would you all have talked about it? You just work, feel uncomfortable and ignore the problem.”

“Well, I thought we owed it to each other, to be honest, and talk about it. I couldn’t start work knowing he was also working there, and not say something to him about it. It would have been too…personal.”

“I see what you’re saying, but Harry it’s okay to let some things go unsaid.”

“Maybe. But I couldn’t do it, Ron. I had to say something. So, we’re just going to be work colleagues. Nothing else. No personal stuff.”

“I don’t believe a word of what you said. But! As long as you’re committed to your delusion, I’ll play the supportive friend, and feed into it.” Ron chuckles to himself and Harry is fine with this as long as Ron is distracted and laughing.

“I promise Ron. You don’t need to worry so much. Plus, he’s involved with some really good looking American quidditch player.”

“Involved huh? Tell me why would that matter?”

Harry sighed and shook his head as he looked down.

“Yes, involved. And I only said that so you would stop grilling me, and he seems really into him and vice versa.”

“So, you’ve met this chap, have you?”

“Yes. He’s the captain of the Sweetwater All-Stars from America. Jesse-“

“ZAMARIPA!” If Ron had been drinking something, he would have spit it out. “Harry, he’s one of the top five chasers in the world, if not the best chaser in the world. And he's dating Draco? What a Lucky bastard…”

“Merlin, it’s Krum all over again.” Harry laughs as Ron punches him in the arm.

The conversation steers in the direction of Quidditch, work, and Harry living in Portree. Harry is thankful for the change and can see that Ron is too. The air was thick with all they had discussed, and he felt much better at the idea of his upcoming season with Draco.

A few hours later, Harry finds himself tossing and turning in bed. He’s never had a problem sleeping here before, but in the wake of Ron’s mild, if not potentially worsening problems with Hermione, and Harry’s own mangled situation, Harry wishes for his bed in Portree.

He misses the open air and the darkened night sky more than he thought we would. He misses the look of the rain as it danced passed his window, and the delicate smell of the garden Cobble so lovingly tended when she had time away from her house duties. As he thought of the cottage in Portree, more and more he began to catch his sleep. Once again, his mind betrays him, and the breath hitches in his chest when Draco pops into his head. He groans, rolls over on his side, and then falls asleep with images of grey eyes, storm clouds, and snitches zipping all around him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's something that may catch your fancy. I have been making a Spotify playlist for this fic and I've been slowly adding to it over the past few months. If you're into the sweet, yet angsty, jams, take a listen. It's in no particular order and I add to it when I'm feeling it.
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/amberm1989/playlist/4gOoNdVMCKWWnzZqcpsNjx


	13. Coaches

Draco feels cold in his room. He rolls over to readjust when he sees a small leak forming a short distance from his bedside window. Portree’s serious rain had yet to rear its head in the short time he had spent here, but Draco could feel its ominous presence when the first storm came through the morning training camp was to start.

Until this moment, the house Draco purchased seemed quite perfect. It seemed a bit old and non-magical, but with time, Draco knew he could fix that. It was one level, sat atop a small hill on the north end of the village, and had too many bedrooms for one person. The kitchen was cozy and while the garden was too large for someone like Draco to tend, completely uninterested in planting and growing things, he kind of liked the over grown nature of it. It helped the house hide and blend in even more than it already did.

Naturally, it was by itself on the hill, and while he missed people like Jesse and his friends, he was not a fan of neighbors and therefore was elated when he saw that the house sat completely alone on the hill. He bought it shortly after realizing this.

The drip, drip begins to wear on Draco’s patience. He grabs his wand from his bedside table and magics a seal onto the ceiling. He makes a mental note to check the rest of the house.

Mornings on the first day of camp brought nerves and anxieties he normally didn’t think of. What would new people think of him? Would he be too hard? Would he be too lenient? Would he get fired? Most of the time, he thought of things that made no sense to someone outside of his head, but what was a new situation without a touch of self-deprecation, doubt and fear?

As he looks at the rain battering down on his window, he hopes it clears by the time he leaves. Without another thought in his bed, that is entirely too warm and comfy, he throws the covers off him and heads to the bathroom.

Following his morning routine, that includes a moment for a good pep talk in the mirror, he goes to the kitchen to make his breakfast. With very little in the way of shopping, he settles on a meager meal of porridge, dry toast and tea. He makes another mental note to stop by the shop and grab a few things later.

While he sips his tea, and looks out of the kitchen window, he lists everything that may or may not be affecting him this morning:

  1.     * He didn’t want to think about the amount of time he would be around Potter. As cordial as they wanted to be, as much distance as they were going to put between themselves, and no matter how many times he told himself it was going to be okay, Draco still couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right with the situation. It was all going to end poorly, he was sure of it.
    * Although he loved and missed Jesse, away from him, he felt perfectly at ease and didn’t like how okay he was with that. Surely, some part of him should ache, should be sad and morose? But every time he thought of Jesse, he felt happy to be with someone like him but no longing for his touch, no need to drop everything and get a Portkey to Texas. Draco knew that different relationships worked in several different ways but surely, everyone nearly required to be near their partner?
    * And finally, he hated how stagnant he felt. The year off had done nearly no good for him, and here he was, on the first day of his new job, and still felt that something within himself was not right. That he somehow was not being true to himself in some shape or form. Why did he get so existential when he had other things to do?



The problems he had, while not grand in many ways, vexed him into a hyper state of anxiety. He begins to doubt his position with Portree, and tries to rationalize missing the first day. His stomach begins to hurt, and the room begins to spin a little. But before he can fully lose control, he grasps the table and starts to take deep breaths.

Suddenly, he thinks of Potter: his emerald eyes lit with excitement as Draco recalls the encounter from last week. Recalling how graceful he was, flying around hundreds of feet of the ground mesmerized Draco. It made him feel good watching Harry look so relaxed and happy. The absurdity of those feelings forced a giggle out of him, and before he knew it, the room’s spinning ceased, and Draco had leveled out. He deems this an unhealthy habit: thinking of an ex when trying to calm oneself down, and locks the thoughts away deep within his mind.

He magics his dishes clean and leaves the kitchen feeling calmer but still anxious.

He dresses in his robes, ending with putting on the too new, too unworn boots Jesse had prompted him to buy for camp, and looks at himself in the mirror. The robes suited him, and although the deep purple brought the color under his eyes out a little too much, he thinks them a definite improvement over Falmouth’s robes which were heavier and less sporty looking.

He looks to the clock sitting on the mantle in his bedroom. While he knows it is entirely too early to be heading to the pitch, he opts to burn time at the clubhouse. He grabs his wand, head towards the front door and feels the cold rain for a few seconds as he apparates.

The clubhouse is perfectly situated in the middle of nowhere, miles outside of Portree, and lays mere meters from The Pride’s pitch. The rain and storms seem to be trailing behind him seeing as how it hasn’t reached this area yet. Around it are steep hills with scattered rock formations peeking out from the blankets of deep green grass. To the east lays the coast and to the west, more hills with mountains litter his vision. The vastness nearly brings him to tears. He gets himself together before he walks into the clubhouse at the fear of humiliation and questions regarding his misty eyes.

From the outside the it seems like a modest manor, made of a dark stone, but inside tells the entire history of the Pride of Portree.

When he first steps in, he notices a grand staircase covered in a luxurious looking deep purple carpet. The floors are made from a dark, purple stone, but have been buffed so much that they have a mild reflective property.

At the top of the staircase hangs an enormous tapestry that contains every player, staff member and person of the Pride’s Board of Directors. Everyone’s name is in gold, but slightly to the left and down, Draco notices his name glimmering in the light. It looks newer than some of the other embroidery, and as he skims the other names, he notices that Ginny’s, Viktor’s, and Harry’s names all have a similar quality.

The walls are hung with banners that marks The Pride’s history through the U.K. and Irish Leagues, stopping at the most recent year. To his left and down a dark but wide hallway, Draco can see a whole slew of paintings that are most likely the former Heads of Directors.

He’s milling about the hallway when he is met with a severe looking Viktor Krum. He bores his eyes into Draco for what seems like hours before he says something.

“Draco Malfoy. Good morning. Have you inspected all of the equipment required for training?”

Draco, caught off guard by Viktor’s no-nonsense demeanor, just gapes at him for a moment while he organizes his sentences.

“Sorry. Yes, I finished my inspections this past weekend, and submitted my findings to Dom. Would you like a copy of my report?”

“Yes. And in the future, I would very much appreciate a copy of all the reports you send to Domnhall. Thank you.”

Draco and Krum stand there for a moment when Viktor shifts slightly.

“Draco, there is one more thing I need to ask you.”

For some reason, Draco knows that whatever is about to leave Krum’s mouth is going to be bad news and wishes now, more than ever, that the clubhouse allowed you to apparate directly out. He’s frozen to the spot.

“I need another flying coach. While I am aware that equipment manager is your post, I believe it would be in the team’s best interest to give this job to someone else. Seeing as how you have more experience as a flying coach.”

Draco can feel his heart hammering to escape his chest.

“Sir, I don’t know if that would be the wisest plan. Considering the amount of work I’ve put into inspecting all the equipment, it would be a shame-”

Viktor puts his hand up to silence Draco, “Dom and I spoke of this. We decided to appoint another person to the equipment manager position because we need you on the coaching staff. What is the problem, Draco? It’s more hands on and you’ll be playing to your strengths. It seems to be a much better match that of an Equipment Manager.”

Suddenly, something snaps into place and he hops from being completely surprised to completely angry.

“Why does this seem so, I don’t know…organized?”

Viktor smiled broadly and clapped his hands together so loudly, it hurt Draco’s ears.

“Dom said you were a wise addition and now I completely agree. Draco, you are a sharp man!”

“May I ask, why did you hire me as equipment manager but in turn give me a promotion on the first day of training?” Draco is attempting to keep his breathing steady while feeling his anxiety and anger begin to rise within him.

“Officially, we are more than pleased with your work in the equipment manager position. So pleased, in fact, that we thought it would be best to play to your talents and promote you to flying coach.”

“And unofficially, sir?”

Viktor hesitated.

“Unofficially, we knew that if we hired you as a flying coach initially and then offered another flying coach post to Potter there was a chance one of you would resign and we need both of you. Given your shared history, it was a chance we weren’t willing to take. I apologize if it puts you in an…uncomfortable position.”

Absolute bollocks.

“I’ll give you some time to absorb this.”

“Do I have a choice in this matter?”

“Draco, of course you do, but I’m sure both you and I know that you don’t belong in the equipment room. You’re too talented to be kept behind the walls of a pitch. Give it a day. If you deem the situation too messy and uncomfortable, come to me and we’ll switch you back.”

“Thank you.”

“Any other questions, Draco?”

He simmers a bit before he speaks.

“What position will I be coaching and what position will Potter be coaching?” Maybe they won’t be that involved after all?

“We thought it best since both of you have seeker experience, that you stick to that.”

He was wrong.

Without another word, Viktor is walking, or stomping, towards his next victim it. Krum’s ability to intimidate via just walking is something Draco may never get used to, but he still feels the fury ebbing against his skull.

He climbs the stairs and takes a walk through the second level only to find that there is very little for him to see and distract him from what just happened: there are several offices with various witches and wizards working, and a second story balcony that contains a great view of the pitch and the mountains in the background.

Draco steps onto the balcony and looks to the pitch. With a good amount of time still looming until the start of camp, players, managers, and coaches are still sparse in his line of sight. He looks to the sky and knows it will be raining in this area by mid-day, but he takes this moment to breathe deeply and calm himself before he heads down... before he spends nearly every waking hour, over the next ten months, with Harry Potter.

***

Harry knows it is entirely too early to be apparating to the pitch, but also knows that if he stays at the house for a moment longer he will go insane. He had awoken to some nerves that morning, but they were quickly dissolved when Ginny gave him a very rousing pep talk over her oatmeal: “Get the fuck over your nerves, you’re an incredible flyer and teacher so you have nothing to worry about.” Afterwards, Ginny handed him a role of parchment. Inside were the details of his position.

“So, I’ll be coaching the seekers?”

“Yes sir,” she answered as she put her boots on.

“Well, I don’t know exactly how to coach someone in flying. Do you think they’ll pair me with someone who’s experienced?”

“Harry, I’m sure they’ll put you with someone who knows exactly what they’re doing. Don’t fret too much.” And with that she had left.

The sky is gray, promising rain later in the day, and for the first time he looks at The Pride’s pitch in all its glory: the walls are high and colored a deep shade of purple. It’s towering in all directions promising an intense view once he’s inside. He looks around the grounds and notices the clubhouse a good distance away.

He notices someone standing on the second story balcony. He’s squinting his eyes and before he knows it Draco Malfoy is in front of him. His tight mouth and creased forehead causing him to look quite severe.

“How’s your morning Harry,” Draco asks with a wavering voice.

“It’s fine. How’s yours?”

“Fine. Perfect. Shite.”

Harry looks around and tries to think if he’s done something to cause this odd behavior in Draco.

“What’s wrong?”

Draco begins to walk rather quickly in the direction opposite the clubhouse. Harry follows as his confusion begins to build.

“Did I miss something?”

“I just ran into Krum at the clubhouse,” Draco says as Harry begins to follow.

“And?”

“They’ve just promoted me to flying coach.”

Harry’s stomach drops, his face goes numb and he stops dead in his tracks. Draco stops and turns to look at him with nothing but worry in his eyes.

“But you’re the equipment manager. You manage the equipment. Why would they promote-“

“Harry, they were going to do this the whole time,” he says exasperatedly, “They knew that if they offered you the post with the knowledge of me being one as well, one of us was going to resign. They needed both of us. And they were kind of right. You almost left the job because you thought it was going to make me uncomfortable so I guess I can see why this was better but Merlin.”

“Well, I’ve been placed with the seekers. Maybe we’ll be in separate-“

“I’m with the seekers as well.” Harry closes his mouth shut and tries to think of something else.

Draco is pacing at an incredible rate. He watches his long legs carry him fluidly back and forth as Draco’s demeanor unravels in front of him.

“What the hell were they thinking doing this to us,” Draco says when he finally stops overlooking the mountains near the pitch.

Harry moves closer to him and looks at the same mountains.

“They were probably thinking that whatever we had gone through together is long forgotten and forgiven and probably won’t affect us so badly that we’ll ruin their team.”

Draco sighs and takes a seat on the ground. Harry takes the cue and sits down next to him in the damp grass.

“Listen, I know it seems like we’re in a fix, but I think we can use our chemistry as an advantage,” Harry says cautiously while looking away from Draco.

“How? How can we use this,” he motions between them, “as an advantage? Because as of right now, I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle this.”

“Do you want to quit?”

“Well, no but-“

“Then we will figure it out together. I am not too thrilled about this either, but I also know that it would be a stupid mistake for us to walk away from this post just because of some bad blood that may still be between us. Just think of our stroll around the garden as a a precursor to fixing us that we were completely unaware of.”

Draco is rolling tiny of blades grass through his finger tips and Harry just watches him as he relaxes in an incredible Draco way: anxious but alright.

“How can you be so sure? How are you certain that I won’t fuck it up? That you won’t fuck it up? That we will actually be fuck-all coaches?”

“I don’t. But I want to see if that is the case. I want to know that I’m trying. If we fail, then that will be that. You will be back in the states with Jesse and I’ll probably move back to London and be miserable at my old job.”

Draco stands up and offers a hand to Harry. He takes it cautiously but allows Malfoy’s help.

“I won’t let you move back unless you want to. I owe it to you to try this out before completely giving it up.”

“Good! Because I didn’t want to think about going back to my old job. Dangerous and not very fun.”

Draco laughs as they begin the long walk back to what could possibly be Harry’s most incredible or horrible first day of work in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO! I've been slugging along quite nicely with this story. But i've been working on it for more than a year, and that, for me, is super cool but also overwhelming! I hope you enjoyed this part as we are finally moving into the goods. Thank you for your patience and thank you for reading.


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